The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch
by Gold-Snitcher
Summary: DMHP. Sequel to 'Life'. AU. Things do not always turn-out the way you planned, and no one knows that better than Draco Malfoy. But still, life has a funny way of working out, even when it seems impossible. Est. rltnshps. Music and art in the 'real world'
1. Coming Home

**Title: **_The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch__i_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter One:** Coming Home

**Pairing: **DM/HP and others

**Warnings: ** This fic is slash. There is intermittent use of profanity and also sexual encounters. I warn prior to each sexually explicit scene, but there are some places where there is mention of it. Please abide by the rating, and if you make the decision to read on, do so responsibly. The rating will likely rise.

**Summary:** Sequel to 'Life As Experienced Through Your Fingers'. Seven years after graduation and a now twenty-four year old Draco is struggling to maintain his life. With a job he hates, that keeps him away from home for months at a time, he tries to keep together his friendships. Everyone is back (well, everyone that counts)! Join the crew as they find their way in the 'real world', and also, struggle to find and maintain love and happiness.

He stepped through the circular doors and onto the familiar grey marble tiles. With a sigh, he dropped his bag beside him and simply took in the large and wonderfully familiar entranceway. After a month of frantic practices and stressful performances, scant hours spent in a cramped hotel room, just being back in the large building was wonderful.

"Mr. Malfoy," a tall, frail looking man greeted, coming out from behind his large desk and hurrying over to Draco. "It's wonderful to have you back, sir. How was your trip?"

"It was quite fine, Dobby, but it's wonderful to be back."

The man nodded sagely at him and Draco picked up his bag, ready to make his way over to the elevators. "Would you like me to bring up your things?" Dobby offered. Draco always found it funny that the man fussed like that. This man was the owner of the building and acted as a sort of concierge, but he never fussed over the other people in the building the way he fussed over Draco. Draco thought he knew the reason for the special attention and the reason always brought a smile to his face.

"No, thank-you, Dobby. I'm eager to get back. I'll just head up."

"No problem, sir. Have a lovely evening." Draco nodded to Dobby and headed towards the elevators.

When Draco had found the place, he had been drawn to the bold elegance of it. The lofts were large and the people were polite and friendly and knew better than to intrude on his privacy. Draco was very fond of his privacy.

He walked down the hallway and dropped his bag down beside him as he reached into his jacket pocket and fumbled for his keys. It was a relief to be home, finally, and Draco felt a knot of impatience that had been torturing him since he had left, begin to ease and yet intensify at the same time as he continued to search for his keys. _So near and yet so far_, he thought.

As he checked his pants pocket, Draco was almost certain that he could hear music from the other side of the door. He paused and pressed his ear to the thick wood. Though faint, Draco, who had always had a sharp ear, could make out what sounded like 'Genie in a Bottle', coming from inside his loft.

With a smirk, Draco fished out his keys and opened the door, shoving his bag inside and then quietly crept towards the kitchen, following the music. As he peered around the partition, Draco's grin was certainly uncontrollable at the sight that greeted him.

Harry Potter, clothed in faded jeans and a tight white T-shirt, stood on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Arms reaching above his head, tugging his T-shirt up to reveal a tantalizing strip of flesh, and bare feet anchored on the granite counter top.

He was dancing.

Harry was, by nature, quite shy. It was something Draco couldn't help but find endearing, but right now, this Harry didn't at all seem like the shy blushing young man that Draco had become accustomed to.

Swinging his hips slowly with the music, Harry sank down, running his hands through his hair and then down passed his neck, skimming over his chest before letting them drop to the counter top as he crouched, still moving his hips and tossing his head with the music.

He was mouthing the words and, as he slowly rose again, swinging his hips and letting his hands wander alluringly over his body, Draco felt his earlier impatience morph into a familiar demon – lust, and, in a strange and yet familiar blend, love. He had been away for so long that coming home to this enticing scene, regardless of whether or not Harry thought he was alone, made Draco's return seem sweeter.

Draco watched Harry dance, leaning casually against the wall to the kitchen and when the song began to come to a close he reluctantly pushed away from the wall and returned to the front door which he opened, and then shut again, loudly.

He paused a moment and smiled as he heard Harry land on the tile floor in the kitchen, and a moment later, the radio was switched off.

"Draco?" Harry called, poking his head around the partition. Draco smiled and Harry rushed forward, pulling his lover into a tight hug. "I missed you," Harry murmured, tucking his head under Draco's chin and inhaling the familiar scent.

Draco let his eyes fall closed, savoring the feeling of being back where he belonged. He'd missed Harry horribly and couldn't deny how wonderful it felt to be back. "What were you up to before I came in?" he asked after a moment, unable to get the sight of Harry dancing erotically on the counter top in their kitchen out of his head.

"I was cooking dinner," Harry answered, smiling and taking a step back, though not relinquishing his hold on Draco, just as Draco refused to remove his hands from Harry's waist. "I wasn't expecting you back today."

"Hm. I couldn't stay away another night," Draco answered, and kissed Harry's temple. "And if that's what you cooking dinner looks like I'm going to have to insist that you do it more often."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, though Draco saw the beginnings of what promised to be a beautiful blush creeping up his lover's cheeks.

Draco pulled Harry closer and whispered in his ear, "I saw you."

"You –" Harry paused, stepping back and looking oddly stricken. "You were watching me?"

"Mm. I think we've discovered another of your ample talents," Draco said. "Now, would you mind if I asked you to put off dinner and allow me to," Draco paused, grinning mischievously. "Rub you the right way?" he questioned, quoting a line from the song Harry had just been dancing to.

Harry flushed quite darkly and smacked Draco's hand away. "Prat," he chided, and Draco grinned.

"Aren't you going to allow me to reacquaint myself with my favorite genie?" Draco continued to tease.

"Don't be an utter arse. And I'm your _only_ genie, thank-you very much," Harry said, turning away and lifting his nose in the air, pretending to be in a huff. "And what kind of a 'hello' is that? You come back after over a month and all you can do is tease me?"

"I can do a _lot_ more than tease you, Harry. Especially after the performance I just witnessed and –" Draco grabbed Harry's arm when Harry moved to step away. "It was bloody good to come home to that." Draco took advantage of Harry's exposed throat and his lover moaned.

"You have to promise –" Harry said, though his voice was breathless. "Never to tease me like that – mm," he continued. Draco hmmed his agreement and slipped a hand under Harry's T-shirt.

Already, he was pushing his lover in the direction of the couch, having decided that the bedroom was a bit too far. "But you haven't told me – mm," Harry tried to speak as Draco continued his ministrations. They toppled onto the couch, Draco draped over Harry, his hands underneath the white shirt and his lips still exploring his lover's throat. "How the concert - _God_, do that again – went. And I want – uh, that feels – but don't you –Yes!" Harry voiced as Draco proceeded to reacquaint himself with Harry's body.

"Later," Draco mumbled as he sat back from Harry in order to pull off the T-shirt.

Harry, for once, did not argue.

……………………….

Harry opened his eyes sometime later and smiled as grey eyes and the sensation of fingers in his hair immediately confronted him. "It's good to have you back," he mumbled as he stretched.

Suddenly becoming aware of the comparative roughness of the surface he was on, Harry raised his head and looked around. "Oh," he said, as he realized they were sprawled on their leather sofa and not the bed, which was the usual place they ended up like this. "We didn't even make it to the bedroom?" Draco smiled at him and shook his head. "Apparently it was _very_ good to be home, then," Harry offered and was rewarded by Draco's buoyant laugh.

They lay there for a while, Harry's head resting against Draco's chest as Draco had one arm resting around Harry's shoulders and the other still stroking Harry's hair. It didn't matter that they were sprawled in their living room, both naked, with a trail of clothes leading from the front door to their current location. They hadn't seen each other in a month and it felt so perfect to be back, and together, and it wasn't as if someone would walk in.

"I thought you said you were making dinner?" Draco asked after a while when he realized that if Harry's statement had been true, something should be burning, yet he couldn't smell smoke.

"I think I know our habits well enough to have the foresight to turn the oven off as soon as you got home," Harry mumbled, craning his head so he could quirk an eyebrow at the blond.

"This is becoming a bit of a tradition, isn't it?" Draco said with wry amusement.

"Hm," Harry agreed, closing his eyes and resettling himself. Draco shrugged, only to realize that Harry's form was restricting the movement of his shoulder and he settled for raising a hand and running it through the soft ebony hair that he had been missing. "Will you tell me about the trip, now?" Harry asked in a sleepy voice.

"It wasn't anything interesting. The symphony's replaced a few players and we sound less than wonderful." Harry snorted at this, since he knew that Draco's tastes were really quite high. Though it might be true that the orchestra sounded a bit rough due to the fact that several of their players had quit or left for various reasons, Harry doubted that they sounded as horrible as Draco was making them out to sound.

"I wish you'd taken that first violin position they offered you. I mean, I know why you didn't, but at least we could have had someone competent there," Draco whinged.

Harry chuckled at this familiar rant. Draco had gone through university majoring in music and immediately following his graduation; he had been offered a position in a major orchestra as a viola. It hadn't been his first choice, since Draco favored the piano, but there had been no other job offerings on the horizon, and since Draco liked to play things safe, he had taken the spot. While it was true that whenever a piano was needed, Draco was always called up, pianos were not needed all that often, and sometimes the conductor refused to let Draco play piano because he was desperate for talented violas.

Unlike Draco, Harry had gone through university via correspondence, since, upon his graduation from high school, he had been offered a deal with a record company. Harry was a solo violinist and gave concerts throughout the year. It had been difficult when Draco had been at uni, because Harry had to do concerts and sometimes, after he had become established, he had to fly to different places.

He was surprised that he was quite popular. When Harry had accepted the job, he'd been excited because it gave him a chance to simply play. Most of the time, he played his electric violin, Little Mischief, but other times, when it was a more formal concert, he'd play Komm Susser Tod.

Since Draco had graduated, two years ago, and he and Harry had moved in together, it had been difficult to arrange time when they could be together. If it wasn't Draco being called away for a month, it was Harry. But still, most of the times Harry was able to wrangle his agent into setting concert times that mirrored Draco's schedule, so that when they were home, they were together.

It was a relief to Harry that Draco didn't resent the fact that he had made such a seemingly easy step from high school into a full career. When Draco's orchestra had begged Harry to take a position as lead violin, it had been Draco that had been angry with him for even considering it.

"The concerts went fine," Draco continued, as Harry came out of his thoughts. "I think we had a few standing ovations but it might have been because they had been serving quite a nice champagne in the foyer, so I didn't put much stock in them. What have you been up to?"

"Hm..." Harry purred, as Draco was still stroking his hair. "I was down at the studio for the recording. We finally finished it, even though, at one point, I was about ready to throw myself out of the building. No one could make up their mind about the sound."

"You didn't destroy your bow again, did you?" Draco asked with a smirk.

"No. And that was an _accident_. You _know_ I'd never willingly destroy an instrument, and that includes a bow," Harry defended.

Harry might have had quite a temper, but usually it took a very long time for it to snap. Recordings, Draco knew, were very stressful on his lover, and, on the event in question, the recording had been quite stressful indeed. There had been an endless list of things going wrong, piled with the huge egos of Harry's agent, Finbar Matheson, and the people from the recording studio.

In the end, everyone had been shouting over each other to be heard, and Harry had been caught in the middle of it and his temper had finally bubbled over and then snapped. The only problem was that, in his anger, Harry had forgotten he was still holding his bow and one emphatic gesture and a sharp impact with a music stand had led to the delicate thing being snapped in twain. Draco, and their friends, had never let Harry live it down. It was still oddly endearing that Harry felt so guilty about it. It was quite a sensitive topic for him.

"Hermione's working on a new composition, and she insists that we test it out," Harry said.

"A duet?"

"Apparently, I haven't really had a chance to talk to her too much about it. I told her we'd call her when you'd gotten back so we could figure out a time when we're both free."

"And willing to spend that free time doing anything other than shagging wondrously?" Draco asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Well, yes," Harry said, blushing slightly. "That was implied."

Draco grinned and kissed Harry's nose. "Perfect. Then I think now is a good time for dinner." Harry nodded and slid off of Draco and the couch, reaching for his boxers and pulling them on quickly. He snatched up his shirt when Draco snatched it back again. "Really, Harry," he chided. "What's the point?" Harry rolled his eyes, but let the shirt go, walking instead into the kitchen and clicked the oven on to heat the dinner he had prepared.

A moment later, Draco walked in wearing his boxers and a devilish grin. Harry was just taking the food out of the oven and, as he reached in to pull out the lemon chicken he'd made, Draco smacked his arse and Harry yelped. "Bastard!" he growled.

"But you love me," Draco said, blinking innocently. "Honestly, can you blame me? Waving that thing around – it's a wonder I haven't pinned you against the counter for a go."

"You have a one track mind," Harry chided, placing the lemon chicken onto the serving dish and setting it on the table.

"I have an excuse. I've been gone a month and thus have been without sex. And now here I am. Alone. With you," Draco purred, pulling Harry close to him and kissing his neck.

"Dinner's ready, and I refuse to foster anymore of your bad habits," Harry retorted, setting out the rice and a bottle of wine since he considered Draco's return a special occasion.

"Are you calling sex a bad habit?"

"Food. Eat. No talky the sex talk," Harry said, and Draco grinned and rolled his eyes. It was one of Blaise's sayings and everyone had taken to using it, often in response to Blaise's monologues about that very subject.

Draco smiled as Harry lit a candle and then settled into his seat. The dinner looked really wonderful, he'd already discovered that Harry was quite talented in the kitchen. His head was spinning; it felt so perfect to be back, at home, with his lover. He had never quite gotten used to being away from Harry for any length of time.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. "Is it too sweet or something?"

The concerned look on his lover's face made him smile and shake his head. "It's perfect," Draco answered. Because it was.

……………………….

Draco's eyes snapped open and it took him a moment to realize what had woken him. The shrill piercing shriek of the telephone's ring had him snarling and reluctantly relinquishing his grasp of his lover as he turned over to the night stand and snatched the phone up. "What?" he snarled.

"Draco?" a timid but familiar voice on the other line questioned.

"Hermione?" he asked, a bit dazed. He glanced at the clock. The hour was not as obscene as he had thought when he had first woken, only seven o'clock, but still, he'd just gotten home, and had been up for most of the night. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing?" she replied, rather unconvincingly. "Welcome back. I thought you were coming tomorrow?" she said, though she sounded distracted.

"Change of plans," he dismissed. "Now, what is wrong?"

"Uhm – Can I speak to Harry?"

"Hermione, it's seven in the bloody morning."

"I know. I'm so sorry," she responded, sounding quite sorrowful. "And you just got back. I'm really sorry, Draco, it's just that – well, I need to speak to him," she said in a rush.

"Well, you know how he is. I'll get him up, but you'd better call back in fifteen minutes or so," he said, looking at his lover's sleeping form with exasperation. Harry was definitely not a morning person at all.

"Thank-you so much, Draco," she said, and hung up.

Draco replaced the phone into its cradle and turned to cuddle Harry back into his arms again. "Harry?" he called softly, running a hand through the ruffled black hair. He spared a moment to feel guilty for keeping the young man up so late and then brushed it off, after all, he'd heard no complaints. Then again, Harry probably didn't know that he wasn't going to be allowed to sleep in. "Harry, you've got to get up," he tried. He was rewarded with a groan. "Hermione called, Harry. She said it was important." Harry shifted and stuffed his head under a pillow. "Harry, she sounded upset."

"Mm – Draco, it's seven in the bloody morning," Harry responded, sounding groggy.

"I know, but Hermione wanted to talk to you and she sounded really upset," Draco repeated. "Come on, get your lovely arse out of bed, and I'll fix some coffee. She's calling back in fifteen minutes." Another groan, but when Harry shifted this time, at least it was in the direction of the edge of the bed.

Draco encouraged and poked and prodded and pestered Harry until he stumbled into the kitchen and into a chair. Then Draco set to work on brewing some coffee for the both of them.

They sat in silence, sipping their coffee when the phone rang again. With a smirk, Draco brought it over to Harry, who glared at it a moment before answering.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Simple, and direct. Draco smiled as Harry suddenly seemed quite awake and concerned. He thought of how everyone in their circle of friends often came to Harry when they were upset or having trouble because the dark haired boy was always so understanding and helpful, and would always set everything aside to be there for his friends when they were in need.

"What's up?" Draco asked, when, after a brief conversation, Harry hung up the phone and quickly downed the rest of his coffee.

"Hermione's really upset and she wants me to come over. Do you mind?" he asked.

"No, she sounded awful. But if you're not back by lunch, then I'm coming over and stealing you away."

"I have no problem with that," Harry said with a grin. He stood up, placed his mug in the dishwasher, gave Draco a quick kiss on the temple and rushed into the bedroom.

"I may consider taking our phone off the hook at night, though," Draco mumbled darkly into his mug.

"I heard that!" Harry called from within the bedroom; he'd left the door open. "And don't you dare. What if an emergency happened? No one would be able to contact us!"

Draco heard the sound of running water and smirked to himself. He loved how, whenever he got back from being away for any length of time, things always fell back into place. There were no awkward moments or uneasy silences, things just went on.

"Anyway, you said yourself that Hermione sounded upset, and she is. Very much so," Harry said as he emerged from the bedroom, washed, dressed in dark jeans and a T-shirt. "I'll be back soon, and we'll do something."

"A picnic," Draco said. "I want to go up to that really nice park Seamus was telling us about."

"That wasn't a park, Draco, Seamus was talking about one of his fantasies," Harry said with a grin.

"Oh," Draco said, blinking. "Right. Well, I usually just tune him out. He has a one track mind." Harry laughed and brought his shoes over to the sofa and sat down to tie them up. "Well, we should do something special."

"Are you implying that last night wasn't special?" Harry teased. "Anyway, you know tradition. Tonight we have our customary trip to the club to get smashed and reacquainted," Harry said.

Draco sat back in his chair. He liked the welcoming home tradition that their group had set up with each other. It hadn't ever been openly acknowledged as a tradition, and no one had planned it to become one, but still, whenever a member of their group of friends returned, they were always granted one night to acclimatize to being home, and then they were dragged out to a pub or nightclub to party with those who had not left the city. "And Sirius is coming down tomorrow. Did I tell you?" Harry asked.

"I don't think I gave you the chance," Draco said with a satisfied grin.

"Prat," Harry chided as he sprang up from the couch, grabbed his coat from the closet and returned to where Draco was seated. "Welcome home," he said, and kissed Draco soundly before wrapping his muffler around his neck, adjusting his coat and whizzing out the door.

………………………

At eleven o'clock, Draco was impatient and fled the loft.

He knew he'd told Harry twelve, but still, he hadn't actually thought that Harry would be gone this long. So Draco hopped in his car and drove out to Ron's place.

It was a small, two-story home with a nice garden and an ornate door. Draco barely noted any of the changes that had been made as he rushed up the small walk and knocked on the door.

A moment later, the door was thrown open by Ron himself. "Oh, Draco. Welcome back," he greeted, though he seemed a bit distracted.

"Hello, Ron. Sorry to bother you but, I seemed to have misplaced my lover," he said wryly, quirking an eyebrow.

"Funny," Ron retorted. "I seemed to have lost a wife." They shared a concerned look before Ron stepped aside. "You'd better come in," Ron said.

"Did something happen yesterday?" Draco asked as he settled into one of the plush couches and Ron poured some tea for them.

"I'm not sure," Ron said. "Well – I don't –"

"You had a fight?" Draco asked ruefully.

Ron handed him the tea and then settled down on the opposite sofa. "I expect I'll be hearing from Harry, next," Ron stated, wryly.

"Probably," Draco answered with a grin.

"How was the concert?" Ron asked.

"Same old crap. Different setting," Draco said, waving his hand dismissively. He frowned suspiciously when Ron leaned forward with a conspiratorial expression.

"Have you given any thought to what you were mentioning earlier? You know, the _thing_," Ron asked. Draco looked away from the curious redhead and pretended not to have heard. "Oh, come on!" Ron shouted.

"We'll see," Draco answered, cryptically. Ron was opening his mouth to press onward but the front door opened and Harry called out.

"In here, Har!" Ron replied. Draco quirked an eyebrow as his lover stepped into the living room.

"Draco," Harry said, a smile splitting his face. He checked his watch. "You're early," he scolded.

"Couldn't be helped. I found myself pining away in your absence," Draco teased, flopping back onto the couch and pretending to be pining.

"Enough of that," Ron said with a grin. "Where's my wife?"

"She's fine," Harry replied, sitting down on Draco's legs as the blond squawked. "She just needed some time to herself."

"I don't see what the fuss is about," Ron muttered.

"Even if you don't, you need to ease up. She's under a lot of pressure with the play and also her own personal compositions, she doesn't need to be thinking about all this added stuff now. You're married, which means you've got plenty of time," Harry said.

"Fine," Ron muttered.

"Hermione's doing a play?" Draco asked as he wiggled his legs free from beneath Harry and sat up, immediately pulling the dark haired boy into his arms and settling him against his chest.

"Yeah, she's doing the music for Blaise's play – I forget what the hell he called it," Ron said.

"The Carnival," Harry replied.

"Right, I remember now," Ron said.

"Who is he going out with now, anyway?" Draco queried.

"Now? I dunno, I think it's Susette," Harry answered.

"No, Susette was two weeks ago. Now it's Alexandra," Ron corrected.

"Oh, right," Harry said.

"Well, it'll be serious when he brings her to meet us. Until then, I hardly see the point in keeping track of the names," Draco responded.

"I still don't understand what was wrong with Pansy," Harry said, shifting his head from where it rested on Draco's chest.

"Yes, but we all know you're a hopeless romantic, Har, and would prefer to believe in high school romances," Ron retorted.

"Excuse me, _mine_ seemed to work," Harry replied. "And, if I may be so bold, you're _married_ to _yours_!"

"Oh," Ron said. "Right."

"Is Pansy in town for tonight, anyway?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. She'll be there," Harry answered, leaning up and giving his lover a peck on the cheek.

"You know, it's funny, but I was under the impression that this was my house," Ron said. "But you two seem more at home here than I ever have," Ron teased.

"It has good chi," Harry retorted, settling down on the couch, where he was sprawled on Draco.

"Stop with the 'chi' thing. You know you don't believe in Feng Shui," Ron said.

"I do!" Harry replied, sounding indignant. "A lot of what it says makes sense."

"Except about messes. You're still quite fond of making messes," Draco responded.

"I think _artistic_ messes are very _good_ Feng Shui," Harry mumbled. "Prat," he scolded.

"Are you coming tonight, Ron?" Draco asked.

"Could I miss it?" Ron retorted. "I mean, really, would it be possible? I have some vague recollection of Dean's welcome home party when I was in a _business _meeting, and Blaise kidnapped me."

"Right," Draco said, laughing at the memory. "Well, you can't ever break with tradition," Draco retorted.

"You should probably head out," Ron said, his voice suddenly dropping to a whisper. "I think our little Prodigy is about to pass out." Draco looked down and, sure enough, Harry's eyes were drooping.

"Shuddup," Harry retorted blearily.

"Late night?" Ron teased.

"Quite late," Draco grinned. He ran a hand down Harry's chest and settled it on his lover's hip where he stroked the patch of exposed skin between the T-shirt and the jeans with his thumb.

Ron turned red and shook his head. "I surrender."

"Damn right," Draco said. "Come on, Harry. I'm not carrying you to the car."

"Shit, I took my car here," Harry mumbled.

"Well, you're half asleep and I forbid you to drive. We'll come pick it back up later on," Draco responded.

"Kay," Harry said before he yawned. "Bye Ron. And ease up on Herm," he added as he made his way out the door.

When they got to the car and Harry had settled himself into a position that looked quite awkward to Draco, but which the dark haired man didn't seem to mind, Draco started the engine and backed out of the driveway. "I take it the damage control wasn't that bad?"

"It was nothing serious," Harry said as he yawned again. "Ron was just being a thick-headed prat."

"So, nothing unusual," Draco said with a smirk. He was answered by a light snore.

Regardless of any threat Draco had made while at Ron's house, he found himself entering their building with his arms full of Harry, who had stubbornly refused to wake up when Draco had called him. Though, admittedly, Draco had not tried too hard, as Harry had looked quite peaceful.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dobby greeted, rushing forward. Draco was amused by the man's behavior as he had kept his voice quiet, and was looking at the dark haired man asleep in Draco's arms as Draco tried to maneuver them towards the elevator. "Ah, asleep, I see," Dobby said.

"Hello, Dobby. Would you mind pressing the button for me?" Draco asked as he tried to juggle the keys in his hand without disturbing his lover.

"Of course, if there is anything I can help you with, please let me know," the man offered. "He's had a busy time of it," Dobby said with a fond smile.

Draco stopped by the elevator and glanced down at the lax features of the sleeper, now that he really looked, Harry did have signs of stress, the familiar dark smudges, faint as they were, were still present. "Has anything been wrong?" Draco asked.

"I think, work," Dobby answered. Draco knew that Dobby had a soft spot for Harry. Dobby had known of Harry before Draco and he had moved to the building, because Dobby was a fan. It was always a comfort for Draco to know that when he went away, Dobby would be keeping an eye on Harry and making sure everything was all right.

The elevator chimed happily, announcing its presence, and the doors slid open. "Well, there you go," Dobby said. "Take care."

"Thank-you," Draco said as he stepped into the elevator and managed, with only minor difficulty, to press the button for their floor.

TBC

Well, here it is. The sequel to _Life, As Experienced Through Your Fingers_. It's been released, and on the anniversary of the release of 'Life' as well! There will be several different pairings, some of the het, some of them slash, but the main focus is, of course, Draco/Harry. It isn't really necessary to have read the original Life, but it helps set-up background, and I'd recommend it. I don't intend to re-narrate everything I wrote there, so there may be times that someone who didn't read 'Life' may feel lost. I know this chapter wasn't stellar, but I had to set everything up. I promise it will get better. (erm. I hope.)

**ALSO**, anyone who endured '_Life'_ knows quite well that I respond _really_ well to reviews. Please, taking the time to let me know that you liked a chapter or a certain scene, or even suggesting (helpfully) something that can be chang 


	2. Here to There

**Title:** _The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Two:** Here to There

--------------------------

Draco hadn't meant to fall asleep. Unlike Harry, he had been able to sleep-in that morning, but still, he had been feeling a bit jetlagged and, after maneuvering Harry into bed, must have passed out himself because he found himself blinking his eyes open sometime later, the room considerably darker because the sun had set.

He closed his eyes once more and moaned and then his eyes flew open when he could have sworn he heard a flock of seagulls shrieking. Draco and Harry's loft was not located anywhere near a place where seagulls had any excuse to be.

Draco lay in bed and stayed absolutely still, wondering if he were hallucinating. A moment later, a woman's voice began speaking excitedly and Draco let out his breath in a relieved whoosh. With a grin, he whipped the covers of and rose, stretching languorously before, grin still in place; he stumbled to the bedroom door and slid it open.

Harry, who was naked except for a pair of boxers, was in the middle of stepping into a pair of black jeans. He had his back to Draco and so he jumped when Draco spoke. "You still listen to this ruddy tape?" he asked.

Harry pulled his pants up and buttoned them before turning around and pouting. "It's a prominent part of my childhood and I was in the mood to regress."

The tape in question was _Vivaldi's Ring of Mystery_, and Draco had heard it often enough that he was fairly certain he could recite it from memory, including the pieces played at various dramatic points in the story. Every time Draco caught his lover listening to it, he teased him, but Harry bore it good-naturedly.

"What are you doing up, anyway?" Draco asked, frowning at Harry. "And dressing out here?"

"You were sleeping in there and I didn't want to wake you," Harry explained. "And in case you have forgotten, we're expected at the club. I'm not in the mood to have our drunken friends crash into our home. This is, after all, _your_ welcome home party," Harry said.

"God," Draco said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'd forgotten." He yawned and shook his head. "Fine. I'll get dressed." He turned for the bedroom and Harry went to pick up his shirt, noticing an opportune moment, Draco smirked and smacked Harry's bottom lightly.

"Hey!" Harry cried. Draco winked and sauntered back into the bedroom. "Git!" Harry called at his retreating back. "Don't forget, we have to pick up the car from Ron's."

"I remember!" Draco called as he rifled through a drawer looking for clothes to wear. "But we're taking one vehicle to the club," Draco said, moving back out into the living room as he pulled on his shirt.

"No we're not. We're taking the underground," Harry said. "There's no way either of us can convince Blaise to let us be designated driver."

"True," Draco said and sighed dramatically. "I hate this."

"No you don't," Harry said with a grin. "You love it. And you've been looking forward to it since you left."

Draco sighed again. "You're right," he admitted. "If Sirius tries to come early, though, I reserve the right to kick his arse."

"Done and done," Harry said with a grin.

……………………..

The Red Room was a small club all things considered, but it was tasteful and had a good atmosphere: tall, plush booths for when you just wanted to talk with friends, and a large, lighted dance floor where the music was always good. As Draco carried his and Harry's drinks back to the table, he noted, 'Let's Get It Started' i was blaring.

Draco couldn't help but grin as he slid back into the booth, noting that Harry desperately wanted to be out dancing, but still, the dark-haired boy had not quite adjusted to dancing 'bump-and-grind' in public, unless at least a bit of alcohol was involved.

"Knock it back," Draco ordered, sliding a shot of tequila across the table to Harry, though it had originally been ordered on Seamus' request. "Then we're getting out there," he tilted his head towards the dance floor.

"'Kay," Harry agreed before he dutifully knocked the shot back.

"Wow! You've gotten good at that!" Dean pointed out. "You've become a little alcee-holic!" he said with a grin.

"Have not! _He_ made me!" Harry retorted before flashing a grin at Draco. "Lets go! Let's get it started!" he said. He pulled Harry up and they proceeded to a section of the dance floor where Ron and Hermione, as well as Neville and Ginny were already dancing.

"I'm cutting in!" Hermione announced when the song changed to a relatively slow one. Draco quirked an eyebrow as she snatched at Harry's arm. She grinned back at him and Draco raised his hands in acquiescence.

"Care to dance, Weasley?" Draco said, turning to Ron.

"In your dreams, Malfoy," Ron retorted with a laugh.

"Only my most secret and disturbed fantasies," Draco admitted overdramatically, causing Ron to laugh as they made their way back to Dean, Seamus and Blaise who were seated at the table. "You obviously managed to smooth things over with Hermione after we left," Draco said as he sipped at the drink he had abandoned in order to dance. When he and Harry had returned to Ron and Hermione's home, she had just returned and they had been standing in the hallway staring at each other. Draco had thought it was in his and Harry's best interest to leave as quickly as possible and so, after briefly checking that they were still coming to the club, they had left Ron and Hermione to sort it out themselves.

"Ooh!" Seamus cried. "Lover's quarrel, Ronnie?"

"Sod off, and yes, we talked," Ron said, his complexion darkening.

"What the hell was it about, anyway?" Seamus asked.

"What isn't it about?" Dean supplied with a wry smirk. "They always argue." Ron's complexion merely darkened more and he sulked and sipped at his drink.

"Well, whatever works. Clearly Ron is partial to make-up sex," Blaise said, causing Ron to slide down in the booth. "Me, on the other hand, I prefer to avoid the messy business of spats and tiffs."

"Those are the same things," Dean pointed out. "Spats and tiffs, I mean. Aren't those the same things?" he asked when no one backed him up.

"I think someone hasn't had enough to drink, if you're still attempting to be technical at this point," Blaise suggested.

"Excuse me for being the designated driver!" Dean snorted. He'd had one drink when they had first gotten there, but had stopped at one, not wanting to risk having even the slightest impaired skills when they decided to leave.

Ron shuffled back up so he was sitting properly in the booth once more. "We got interrupted earlier, Draco," he said, suddenly fully recovered from his embarrassment and eyeing Draco with an evil look.

"Not here, Weasley," Draco said, hoping Ron would drop it.

"What's this, then? An affair?" Blaise asked. Draco rubbed at his temple, suddenly feeling a very strong headache coming on.

"You haven't told them?" Ron asked sounding genuinely surprised.

"I haven't told anyone, you prat, just you and clearly _that_ was a mistake," Draco bit out. He hadn't intentionally told Ron, anyway. The redhead had sort of figured it out when they were at Pansy's going away party, and then, from there, Draco had thrown caution to the wind and asked Ron for his opinion because, as much as he knew his lover, there were some things that he simply was never sure of.

"Oh," Ron said, sounding flattered.

"Wait! Hold on, what the bloody hell are you two blokes talking about?" Seamus asked. "Spill!" he added. Seamus followed his own advice by spilling part of his Guinness down his front. He looked not the least bit embarrassed.

With a frustrated sigh, Draco sat back and rolled his eyes. "No," he said. "Not here, and not like this."

"Might as well confess and get it over with. They won't stop until you tell them, and at least they might forget in a drunken haze," Ron said.

Draco really didn't want to tell anyone, it was bad enough with Ron pestering him, it would only be worse if the others found out. "He might come back," Draco muttered as an excuse turning his head away.

"Draco's going to propose," Ron said. "He's already got the ring and everything." A sudden thought struck and Ron smirked at his friend. Draco, for a moment, really wished his friend hadn't picked-up that particular habit of his. "You've got it here, haven't you?" Draco tried not to blush and averted his eyes. "You _must_ have it on you. I mean you did _then,_" referring to when Draco had spoken to Ron. Well, it was true enough, Draco rarely went anywhere with Harry without having it with him, always searching for the '_right time'_. Draco didn't want to do any of those typical proposals. Didn't want to propose at dinner, or alone on the couch, or before his friends at Christmas. He wasn't sure what it was exactly he was waiting for, but he knew it hadn't come yet.

"Whip it out!" Blaise said, patting Draco on the back with a manic grin on his face.

"Whip what out?" Hermione asked, and everyone looked up guiltily as she and Harry slid into their spots in the large booth. "Honestly, boys are so obscene!"

"We're not _boys_, we're _men_!" Seamus said, puffing up his chest. Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco was surprised how little had changed since their days in high school. It was so very hard to believe that these lasting friendships, and his love with Harry had been the result of one year of high school together. One year, and this was how much it had affected his life. Here he was, twenty-four, successful, happy, with close friends and a wonderful lover, all of which, despite Draco's expectations, had _lasted_.

The bantering continued until, finally, they decided to head home and Dean tried to usher everyone into the truck. The music was blaring and everyone was singing as they toured around dropping everyone where they should be.

When they reached their building, Draco and Harry were singing 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' and shushing each other when they thought they had grown too loud.

They stumbled into their apartment after a dizzying ride up the lift, still whispering their song and shushing each other and laughing loudly. They made it to the bedroom before flopping onto the bed and promptly passing out, still in their clubbing clothes.

……………………….

Draco awoke at six o'clock in the morning and was relieved that, as per usual, his hang over was pleasantly manageable. It was one of the causes that led to their mock fights between he and Harry. Draco rarely had bad hangovers, though headaches were usual when he drank quite a bit, he was rarely reduced to vomiting and nausea. Harry on the other hand …

With a sigh, Draco scooted out of bed, having to unwrap himself from Harry's various sprawled limbs, and retrieved some ginger root and a glass of water, as well as some aspirin and a bucket, placing them each within easy access on Harry's side of the bed, before climbing back under the covers and falling back to sleep, Harry tucked close to his body.

When Draco woke again it was to the sound of the phone ringing. Beside him, Harry let out a long and pain-filled moan, and Draco smirked before reaching over to his nightstand and answering the phone.

"Draco?" a familiar woman's voice asked.

"Hm?" he answered.

"Are you adequately hung-over?"

"What the hell are you calling at this hour for Pansy?" Draco asked. He watched as Harry inched his way over to the side of the bed and downed both the aspirin and the water before sighing and settling back into bed. Draco was relieved to note that both the ginger root and the bucket went untouched.

"I wanted to welcome you back. And it's ten o'clock, quite a respectable time to be ringing. How's Harry's head?" she asked with an audible grin and smirk.

"Heh. You truly are evil. Fine. We're both fine."

"Is that Pansy?" Harry asked; his voice muffled by the pillow he had stuffed his head under.

"Yeah," Draco answered.

"Tell her that as soon as I'm confident that I can move without passing out, that I'm going to come and hurt her. Pain. Lots of pain."

Draco snickered and relayed Harry's message. "Aw, isn't he a sweetie," Pansy answered. "How are you, Draco? How was your trip? You have to fill me in because I couldn't be there and I miss everyone!" she said.

"The trip was fine, nothing interesting, and the performance was barely passable. But the welcoming home was quite pleasant," Draco said as he recalled coming into the kitchen and finding Harry.

"Which welcoming are you referring to, hon?" Pansy asked, noticing the tone in Draco's voice.

Draco laughed. "We missed you last night."

"Tell her that for her welcome home we're making her do karaoke," Harry said, still burrowing under his pillows.

"Ooh, revenge indeed!" Pansy said when Draco told her. "That's what I wanted to say, actually. I'm going to be back in two weeks, so make sure everyone keeps time open because I really want to catch-up on all that I missed so far."

"It's not much, really. Mostly we've just been wallowing in the darkness that your absence has left us in," Draco quipped.

"Oh good, I was worried for a bit," Pansy asked, laughing.

There was a knock at the door and Draco had to quickly say good-bye, promising that he would call her later, and then adding that they'd do a conference call when she complained that she hadn't heard from Harry in a while.

Draco tried to hurry out of bed and get to the door, because whoever was on the other side of it, though it seemed pretty clear that it was Sirius, was extremely impatient.

"Coming!" he called, trying to keep his voice relatively soft so as to take it easy on Harry. He slid the bedroom door shut because Sirius was notoriously loud, and finally made it to the front door, which he opened only to be glomped by the dark haired man.

"Draco! Fabulous to see you!" Sirius said as he stepped into the apartment and set his bags down. "I came straight here. Where's the little Guppy?" Sirius asked, already heading in the direction of the bedroom.

"A bit hung over," Draco said, just as Harry's voice from the bedroom cried: "I'm not a bloody Guppy anymore! I'm twenty-four years old!"

"Guppy!" Sirius cried as he passed into the bedroom, grinning and hauling Harry into a tight embrace before Harry had even managed to make it out of bed completely. "Partying hardy," Sirius said, gesturing to the clubbing outfits that both Draco and Harry were still wearing.

"You're early," Harry retorted as explanation.

"Well come on! Lets not wait for the grass to grow!" Sirius said, already shoving Harry in the direction of the shower. "I'll do breakfast, and then I want to be updated on everything that I've missed!"

Draco watched as Sirius, humming to himself, headed out of the bedroom and began puttering around the kitchen, undoubtedly beginning with breakfast. After a moment's hesitation, Draco turned and entered the bathroom.

"Taking a bit of a risk, aren't you?" Harry purred, grabbing Draco by the shoulders and stripping him even as he maneuvered him in the direction of the shower, which was already running.

"Yes," Draco admitted, "but apparently I was expected."

"Hm," Harry said as he joined Draco and grabbed the shampoo. "It just makes sense, after all," Harry said casually as he began to wash Draco's hair. "Breakfast will be ready soon, and we both needed to shower."

"Hm," Draco agreed. "Cuts down on the water bill, too," he said with a smirk.

"See? And you know we have to save whatever money we can. Both of us being starving artists and all," Harry said, though he could no longer keep a straight face.

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "Famished." And yanked Harry forward into a deep kiss.

"We shouldn't get carried away," Harry said when the parted, though his eyes were closed and his arms were still rapped around Draco's neck. "Breakfast will be done soon – and Sirius –" but he was cut-off as Draco kissed him again.

After a long and very heated kiss, Draco pushed Harry back a bit. "You're right."

"I am?" Harry asked, clearly dazed.

"Sirius isn't exactly patient," Draco said.

"Who?" Harry asked as he tugged Draco back into a kiss.

"Boys!" A voice called, and Harry and Draco's eyes flew open and they froze in their embrace as they heard the knock on the door. "Make it a quicky, would you? The eggs will get cold!" Sirius called.

"Oh. God," Harry said, turning a lovely shade of pink and looking completely mortified.

Draco laughed and turned Harry around, squeezing a dollop of shampoo on his hands and beginning to wash Harry's hair. "It's not like he doesn't know we have sex. I mean, we live together, we're dating. It's no big secret."

"He's my godfather!" Harry said, still sounding mortified.

"And you told me that he knew that you were going to corner me when I visited over Easter that first time, remember?" Draco had very fond memories of that holiday back in high school, and not just because it had been their first time together.

"That's different. He didn't actually _say_ he knew. It was just implied. But _this …_" Harry didn't seem to know how to continue.

"You amaze me, sometimes, Harry," Draco said with a fond shake of his head as he began to rinse the shampoo from his lover's hair. "You are not the blushing virgin any longer, and yet you still are such an innocent sometimes."

"That's not true! How the hell would you feel if your mother said something like that?" Harry asked.

"She did," Draco said. "Remember last Christmas?" Draco was rewarded by seeing Harry once again regain that marvelous rose color. For a moment, Draco was reminded of a stuttering boy, with faint freckles backlit in this same way, offering a kiss.

"God," Harry said, "And that was just as bad!"

"No it wasn't. It's expected. It's just what couples do. They're teasing, Harry," Draco said.

They cleaned off quickly, and brushed their teeth before heading to their bedroom to get dressed. Harry very reluctantly entered the kitchen.

"There you are!" Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair as he sat down at his place at the table, still blushing furiously. "Eat up quick because I have a surprise for you two!"

"It's not another one of your crazy road trips, is it?" Draco asked with a long-suffering sigh.

"Nope, better."

"It's not a flight to the States so you can visit Disney World, is it?" Harry asked.

"No, unfortunately," Sirius said, and looked a bit sad. "But it's still good."

"You should just tell us," Harry said with a half-smile, glancing in Draco's direction. "You've already got him reliving flashbacks on that road trip, he won't be able to calm down and enjoy the day until he knows you're not going to make us trek seven kilometers in search of gas in a rainstorm."

"I've got myself a showing, boy!" Sirius said. "You've got to come see the place! They've finished setting it up just this morning."

"Hang-on," Harry said, looking puzzled. "How long have you been in London?"

"For a while, but I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"You should have told me!" Harry cried. "But, this is amazing, Siri!" Harry said, jumping from his chair and giving his uncle a tight hug. Draco grinned as Sirius beamed, and then shook his hand firmly.

"You both have to come to opening night, I inisist!"

"Of _course_ we'll be there! Oh my God, Sir!" Harry said, hugging his uncle again.

"Anyway, finish up because I want to show you the place. It's really quite something." With a grin, Harry and Draco reclaimed their seats and hurriedly finished breakfast.

"Oh my God!" Hermione cried and tried to stop herself from hurling the plate in her hands across the room at her husband's head. "We've just _had_ this conversation, Ron! I'm not having it again!"

"Hermione, we've been married for six years already. Six!" Ron shouted. "I don't see what the fuss is about! The twins were already on the way after my parents were married for six years!"

"That's different!"

"Why?" Ron cried.

"Because that's what you mum_ wanted_! She was happy with that! I'm not, Ron! I don't want kids now. I'm twenty-four! I'm working!"

"But –"

Hermione cut him off. "Will _you_ take care of the baby, Ron?"

"Hermione, I have to work, but when I'm home, you _know_ I'd help."

"So you expect me to stop working and raise the baby?" Hermione asked. "That's stupid and you know it!"

"You're here anyway!" Ron cried.

"That's because my work room is here. I work all day! How am I supposed to compose when I'm looking after a child?" Ron turned a dark red and looked flustered. "We're not ready for this. _I'm_ not ready for this!"

"Yes we are! It's been _six bloody years_! We're more than ready! We'll figure something out."

"No, Ron," Hermione said, suddenly sounding very calm; she was reminding herself about what Harry had said to her and trying to remain calm. "I've already told you I'm not ready. We've talked about this more than enough times. You have to be ready for something like a baby, you have to be prepared for it, and it's just not time for us."

"Hermione, people have babies all the time without having their lives planned out."

"That's not what I'm saying, and if you insist on pushing this topic then I'm going to have to leave."

"Hermione, we'll work-out a schedule where it can work, but I really think –"

Fed-up with this particular issue, Hermione snapped. "Well _you're_ not the one with the uterus! So it really doesn't matter, does it? Now, if you'll excuse me!" She huffed and stomped up to her room, tossing her clothes into a bag, not wanting to stay here any longer, feeling flustered and misunderstood and under-attack. Next, she went to her office and gathered up all her work, before she took her coat and returned to the kitchen where Ron was still standing. "I'm going now, Ron. I'm sorry, but we've talked about this and you just don't seem to understand. I love you, but you're just being an ass right now. If you want me, call Harry and he'll tell you where I've gone. But don't try to contact me if you're going to persist about this."

With that, Hermione turned on her heel, grabbed the keys to her car, and left her home and her husband, wanting to cry very hard for a very long time. She made it down the street before she pulled into a secluded parking lot for a small shop, and then proceeded to do just that.

------------------------

TBC

I would like to apologize for it taking so very long to update this fic. I've been very busy this term, and there have been technical difficulties. Luckily, everything has been sorted out. And, frankly, I had issues with this chapter, and even now a not happy with it. Next chapter will be better, promise! Special thanks to my beta Allohamora for the jumpdrive, hopefully this will mean no more random loss of data or destruction of discs! Thanks, as well, to everyone who has reviewed, and has been patiently waiting for an update. I really can' thank everyone enough for the encouragement I've received!!

This chapter **dedicated** to my beta Allohamora for her help and also the wonderful Christmas presi! And the encouragement!

i Let's Get It Started, by the Black-Eyed Peas, There's also a version called "Let's Get Retarded" but I didn't want to be offensive.

-------------------------

TEASER:

Enter the Art Critic

Unfortunate Accidents

The Unwanted Proposal


	3. The Mood That Passes Through You

**Title: **_The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Three:** The Mood that Passes Through You

-

There were a lot of things that Draco knew. Besides the mundane facts of two plus two equaling four and how to properly drive a vehicle, he knew a lot of other things.

Like that if he disturbed any of Harry's 'creative messes', then his lover would have a small nervous breakdown when he was unable to find something, because he had known exactly where it was when it had been stored someplace completely illogical.

Draco knew that if he had a fresh cup of coffee and breakfast set out when Harry woke up in the morning, then Harry would make dinner, and Harry was a fabulous cook. He knew that Harry listened to music that reflected his mood, and he was familiar with the songs that warned of trouble with the dark haired young man.

Draco also knew that if he sat down at his bright white piano in his and Harry's loft, and played Tierson's _La Valse d'Amelie_, from that movie he had been forced to watch just last summeri, it would result, at least if Harry was near enough to hear it, in mind-blowing and passionate, slow and wicked sex.

So Draco sat at his piano and began the familiar piece, long since committed to memory.

It wasn't exploitation. Draco only played it when he meant it, and he knew that Harry only reacted the way he did because of whatever it was he heard in the music as Draco played. Draco had long ago realized that he could never fully comprehend his lover and what Harry heard in music. He remembered the familiar lessons Harry had given him when they were in high school, how Harry had just seemed to know what it was he was thinking and what was giving him difficulties.

So Draco could never play the piece if he didn't mean it, but what it was that he meant, he wasn't sure. The music, in all its dizzying flurry of notes, seemed to him like the overflow of the heart when all the simple beauty of the world overwhelmed you. It reminded him of carousels and the changing leaves and crooked smiles given by shy boys with green green eyes and dark messy hair, and watching the rain fall against the windowpane, and the taste of chocolate as it lingered on the tip of the tongue, the feel of waking up with a warm body in your arms, and paper snowflakes.

"I love you," Harry whispered into his ear. Draco looked up and was surprised to see the hint of tears in those moss green eyes.

"What is it about this piece?" Draco asked, feeling oddly bewildered. Harry shook his head, pressing his hand gently against Draco's heart and letting his eyes fall closed. Draco watched, mesmerized, as a tear slid down the smooth cheek. He didn't want to brush it away, it seemed perfect: Harry, so caught up in emotion that it was seeping from him.

Draco only realized that his eyes had fallen closed as he held his lover when he felt the soft brush of lips against his own. When he opened his eyes he met Harry's and he smiled. "I love you, you know?" Harry asked.

"I do. And I love you," Draco answered, surprised to find that he wasn't even inwardly cringing at these saccharine sentiments, though he was certain that, at one time in his life, he would have gladly throttled himself for them.

"Good," Harry whispered, his breath ghosting across Draco's ear. "Then come to bed." Draco knew not to protest. Knew that Harry needed this as much as he did.

-

**explicit content begins**

**-**

They moved slowly, stepping into a different world and Draco was certain he could hear the faint strain of the notes he had just played echoing off the walls of their loft as they moved, not braking the kiss.

They're hands worked at buttons and zips, ridding each other of their clothes until the backs of Harry's legs bumped against the bed and he smiled, wrapped his arm firmly around the back of Draco's neck, and fell backwards, taking Draco with him.

Draco shifted, pressing his body against the side of his lover's body, his hand running from Harry's bent knee to his pectoral, and back again, simply looking down into Harry's eyes.

As if by some mutual unspoken decision, Draco leaned down as Harry lifted his head up, and they kissed again, passionate and fierce as it was tender and Draco felt as if they were tearing apart the world to remake it again. Things ceased to matter. The universe shrunk down until it consisted of nothing but the two of them, intertwined on their bed.

They did not break the kiss, parting only briefly to take in breath. Draco fumbled to reach for the lubricant in the drawer of their nightstand, and somehow managed to coat his fingers and find Harry's entrance without shifting to look at what he was doing.

Harry broke the kiss only once, turning his head to the side and gasping when Draco finally penetrated him, and then it resumed, fierce as before. Draco was lost in the strains of their breath, the movement of their bodies, always in unison. He closed his eyes and was overwhelmed by sensation. Was overwhelmed by what had become of his life, which had once been cold and lifeless.

There were no words to express or describe. No words to convey his thoughts, and yet, strangely, Draco did not feel as if that meant that Harry could never understand.

Draco drank down Harry's moan of release, and followed soon after, and they collapsed, not so much tired as sated, not so much released as reaffirmed. And Draco thought that maybe Harry understood it all perfectly. And that was something.

-

**Explicit content ends**

**-**

Harry smiled as he reached up and brushed aside some of Draco's hair, tucking it behind his ear and out of his face. And Draco thought, maybe this was it, maybe there didn't need to be 'The Right Moment', because even if there was no elaborate and romantic scenario which Draco devised. Even if the setting was as mundane a their bedroom, on their rumpled sheets. This moment seemed perfect.

And just looking into Harry's eyes, Draco found the courage to speak the words he'd been toying with for over three months. He opened his mouth, set to speak aloud when a loud knocking on their front door had Harry turning his head away and breaking eye contact.

"Don't answer," Draco said, desperate to salvage their moment. Harry turned his head back, an uncertain look in his eyes.

"Harry? Are you there?" And Hermione just sounded _awful_, and Draco knew that there was no denying a friend in need.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered, as if he knew he was unable to grant his lover something he needed.

"No," Draco said, kissing Harry gently. "There's no need. It can wait." After all, he'd waited this long, there would be another opportunity. He watched as Harry scooted out of bed and hurriedly dressed, and then Draco reluctantly did the same. A part of him was riling against Hermione and her damn interruptions and issues, but another part of him understood that she couldn't help it, and was happy to help in any way he could.

"Are you okay?" he could hear Harry asking as he buttoned up his jeans before following the path his lover had taken and joined Harry and Hermione in the living room.

"Oh, Harry. He just doesn't get it!" she sobbed, and Harry wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried, and Draco went to prepare some tea. He wondered if he would ever find the proper time to propose.

………………………

Blaise leaned up on his side, propped by his elbow and looked down at the sleeping form beside him. They'd met last night in a nightclub. Blaise had gone for a few drinks after a long day of rehearsal, and he'd seen her there. It wasn't anything serious, but they'd had an enjoyable evening.

With a sigh, he flopped back onto the bed and rubbed his brow. He felt incompetent. Ron and Hermione were married, Draco and Harry were still as smitten with each other as the day they had _finally_ hooked-up, Ginny and Neville were never apart, and Blaise was alone, and unable to maintain any semblance of a serious relationship.

Sure Seamus and Dean were single, as well, but they were different. Seamus was a player and was happy about it. He liked to have fun. Dean was so wrapped up in his job as an animator that he really didn't show any signs of pursuing a serious relationship, not until he settled in to his new job. The thing was, Blaise hated spending each with a different body beside him. But no matter how he tried, Blaise invariably found himself growing frustrated with the girl, comparing her to some unknown ideal in his head. The Reigning Venus. The Unattainable. And whoever that bint was, Blaise was getting sick of her ruining his attempts at serious relationships.

"You up?" a voice asked, and Blaise turned and quirked an eyebrow. "Excellent," she said, and for another moment, Blaise was able to forget.

……………………….

"This doesn't look good," Draco said as he opened the door to see Finbar at the door. Finbar had been Harry's agent since the beginning, and Draco had grown to think of him as a sort of friend, and enjoyed the brotherly relationship between Finn and Harry. It was good to know that when Harry traveled, he had his very own bodyguard with him. Two, if Draco was able to come along as well.

"I assure you, it isn't," Finn said, with a low growl. "Harry in?" Draco nodded and opened the door to the loft. "Bleeding incompetents," Finn hissed.

"Finn!" Harry called as he stepped out of the study and spotted the tall brunette. Harry's first reaction was to smile and give the man a half-hug, but then he stepped back, expression turning serious, and looking at the man with suspicion. "What happened?"

"Botched the bloody recording those dolts did!" Finn exploded. "We've got to do a re-taping."

"How much?" Harry asked, trepidation clear in his voice.

"Dunno. Half the bloody album at least."

"I'll bring out some whisky," Draco said as he ushered the tall brunette further into the loft. He was quite frustrated to hear this news. Not only did it corrupt the plans he had for his time with Harry, but it was clear that Harry was stressed enough as it was, and doing a re-taping was about the last thing that the dark haired man needed.

With a sigh, Draco patted his pocket where a by-now familiar box was resting. He headed to the bedroom and opened their closet, placing the box into the antique box his mother had given him containing some of the Malfoy jewelry. Draco stared at it a moment before closing the antique box and stepping back.

He waited a moment, tapping his fingers against his thigh, before he stepped forward and opened the antique box again; removing the familiar black velvet ring-box and tucking it back into his pocket.

…………………………

They arrived at the club and headed directly for a booth. Blaise tried to grin in encouragement as he ruffled Harry's hair. "The point of tonight is to forget your troubles. The taping will go fine, and you'll finally catch a bit of peace," Blaise said with confidence.

"You're right," Harry said with a small smile, trying to look encouraged. "I'll get us all drinks."

Draco nodded and settled into the booth. "You know he'll likely have a nervous breakdown before that bloody CD gets done," Blaise said off-handedly.

"Which would be what I'm trying to prevent," Draco said, watching as Harry sauntered over to the bar.

"He'll be fine," Dean said with an encouraging smile. "He's like that. Managing to tough-it out in tough situation," he said.

"I know," Draco admitted, though he did not sound convinced. "How's your work coming anyway, Dean?" Draco asked, and grinned as Dean immediately brightened and launched into a discussion about his job as an animator.

From there, it deteriorated into whether computer graphics were better than the typical method, and Draco, still listening, turned his head to watch Harry at the bar, waiting as the bartender fixed up the drinks. A woman, where a particularly tight top, had drawn over to Harry's side, and was clearly flirting. Draco watched as she placed a hand on Harry's shoulders and rolled his eyes. There was a time when Harry might have flinched at that touch, but now, the dark-haired man simply turned and quirked an eyebrow.

"Ooh!" Blaise said as he followed Draco's gaze. "Potter's got himself a dame!" he cackled merrily. "Not his type, though," he said, as if it were a great shame.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "She's a _she_ for one thing."

"Naw, that wouldn't have stopped him," Blaise said with a shrug. Draco felt something inside constrict. "It's just that she's not tall, slim and freakishly white-blond locks and grey eyes." Blaise elbowed Draco and grinned.

Draco watched as Harry brushed off the woman and returned to the table with a tray of drinks and passed them out. "That was quite a woman," Blaise said with an evil grin.

"God, her attempt at subtlety consisted of basically: want to have a go?" Harry said, as he rolled his eyes, slipping into the booth beside Draco and sliding up close to his lover's side.

"You don't mind if I whisk her away, then?" Blaise said, continuing to razz his friend.

"Why would I?" Harry asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Besides, I already have my eye on someone." Harry turned to Draco and grinned as he threw an arm around Draco's shoulder. "Hey handsome," Harry drawled in a low purr. "Want to have go?" They laughed and Draco turned and quirked an eyebrow.

………………………

"Are you gay?" Draco asked as soon as they had returned home.

Harry stopped in the process of removing his coat, turned around and frowned. "What?"

"You heard me. I asked if you were gay?" Draco asked.

"Why would it matter?" Harry asked. "No, I'm bi. Why, Draco?" he seemed clearly confused.

"Why?" Draco cried. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Draco asked. "You _lied_ to me!" Draco shouted.

"I did not," Harry yelled back. "It's just never come up between us. I just thought it didn't matter. Why could it? I was with you, that's what counted. Whether I was interested in one of both of the sexes seemed irrelevant because I was _with you_!"

"So what happened to all that: We have to share _everything_? It's all about _trust! _Bullshit._"_

"It's not bullshit!" Harry hissed. "I meant it."

"Clearly you didn't apply the same rules to yourself!"

"Yeah?" Harry asked. "Are _you_ gay, Draco?"

"Yes!" Draco shouted.

"Well, why the hell didn't you ever _tell_ me that?" Harry asked, pacing forward, fists clenched. "I never knew! Why are you keeping these from me?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Bastard," Draco hissed. "It was more than clear!"

"_How_ was it clear, Draco? Because you were interested in me? Well, I was interest in you, too, but clearly being bi-sexual isn't good enough for you. What is it, Draco? What is it about this revelation that really has you pissed?"

"Girls have flirted with you!" Draco shouted.

Harry blinked, not following this. "Guys have, too. I don't see the connection." His voice was bland; he didn't feel like fighting, he was just too tired.

"They've flirted with you, and you've flirted back. And I didn't care because you were _gay_, only you're not. So what the fuck?"

"Guys have flirted with me, too," Harry argued. "And I don't flirt back. I'm just being pleasant. I have no interest in them. Why would I?"

"I don't know," Draco snapped. "Why would I?"

"You're jealous?" Harry asked, surprised and stunned

"No I'm not!" Draco defended.

"You're angry about this because if you'd known you'd have kept an eye on them as well as the blokes."

"Shut up," Draco demanded, and was about to stomp off in a fit when Harry wrapped his arms around him and held him close. Draco closed his eyes, savoring the feel of Harry's body against his back, and felt as Harry placed a kiss on the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I didn't think it meant anything because I was dating you, so where my interests lay seemed irrelevant. You don't need to worry about me going off, Co," Harry whispered.

Draco allowed himself to relax, and berated himself for his damnable temper. Here he was, supposed to be making sure that Harry took it easy, and at the first opportunity, he throws a tantrum over nothing. "I'm an idiot," Draco sighed, turning around and then hugging Harry and kissing him proper. "I'm sorry I blew-up like that. It was unfounded and came out of nowhere."

"It's just a stressful time," Harry dismissed easily. He couldn't hide his yawn, though he made an attempt, and when he looked back up at Draco, he smiled sheepishly. "Come to bed?"

"Of course," Draco said, pressing a kiss to Harry's temple. They changed and fell into bed, Harry making a show of curling around Draco's form, before promptly falling asleep, and Draco pondered his revelation, not of Harry's sexuality, but of his own apparently volatile temper. There had been fights between him and Harry; most of them more severe than tonight's, some of them over the most irrelevant and foolish topics. There were times, though, when Draco knew his anger was entirely displaced. He couldn't believe he had added more stress to Harry's life over something so stupid.

"I'm an idiot," he said again to himself, before he hugged Harry more tightly to his chest. "I love you." And then he followed his lover into sleep.

………………………..

"Don't worry about it," Draco said, two days later, and Harry slid into the front passenger seat. "It will go fine, and when you get back tonight, I have a surprise." Draco was driving Harry to the studio for the first session of re-taping. Harry was not looking forward to it, and, to cheer his lover up, and because he still felt guilty for what he'd done before, Draco was planning to prepare a nice, relaxing dinner when Harry got back. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Draco asked again, just to make sure.

Harry grinned at Draco and shook his head. "You should take it easy. Go out with Herm somewhere, she needs to get her mind off things."

"Yeah, okay," Draco asked as they pulled out of the underground parking and out onto the street. "When are you intending to speak to Weasley?" Draco asked after they had sat in silence for a while.

"I don't know. I'm going to let him stew a bit more before I try to snap sense into him. It was good she left, otherwise it just would have continued," Harry said, then sighed. "He just feels pressured."

"No reason to start pressuring her," Draco said. He thought the entire mess between Hermione and Ron was just atrocious. If she didn't want kids, that was it, what was there to discuss?

"Oh my God!" Harry suddenly said, "We have Sirius' showing tonight! I completely forgot!"

Draco wanted to curse. Would they get a break? It didn't seem likely at the rate things were going. "Fine, we'll put off the surprise till tomorrow. We'll go to the showing, but we're not staying late. Sirius will understand."

"He's so excited about it," Harry said with a smile. They were coming to the studio and Draco stopped the car for a red light. "Do you think he'll find someone? He's just so lonely," Harry said wistfully.

Draco turned to look at his lover and smiled, placing a hand over Harry's hand. "I'm sure of it," Draco said. He was about to add to his statement when the car was slammed forward. Draco felt the seat belt snap tight, and he was slammed back against the seat, the airbag inflated. He tried to bat at it to see Harry.

He caught a glimpse of his lover, lying similarly constricted. Not moving, looking pale.

…………………………

Ginny loved the idea of a picnic, and so had not even paused for a moment of thought before shouting a 'Yes!' and glomping onto her boyfriend.

Now, as they sat on the blanket in the park, basking under the mid-August sunlight, Ginny wasn't expecting to see Neville shuffle onto his knees and look at her shyly.

"Hey, Gin," he said, and blushed again.

"Hey, Nev," she answered, not fully comprehending what was going on.

"I just wanted to say that I love you," he said. "Would you marry me?" he asked, in a rush, and for a moment, she just sat there and blinked.

When the silence continued, Neville shifted uncomfortably and Ginny leaned forward and kissed his sadly before shaking her head and whispering, "No." Neville waited for a moment, detachedly examining the sensation of his heart imploding, before, with tears in her eyes, she kissed his cheek again. "I'm so sorry, Nev."

"Why?" he asked, unable to speak anything more.

"I just," she shrugged, helplessly. "I'm twenty-three, Neville. I'm not much sure of anything at all, right now. I'm trying to focus on work. You know, I've got the show coming up." Neville knew, of course, about Ginny's role as the lead role in _The Magic Flute_ as the Queen of the Night. She had been accepted into the Opera Company, and had worked her way up with surprising speed. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"It's okay," Neville dismissed, hoping that he sounded at least partially believable. "It was worth a try, right?" he asked, and she sobbed.

………………………….

Harry blinked open his eyes to see a familiar pair of storm grey eyes blinking back at him. He took a moment to try and remember where he was and what he was doing there, until finally it fell together. "Where is she?" he asked, though his voice was very quiet and raspy.

"Who, Harry?" Draco asked, stroking the black hair tenderly.

"She was with me," Harry asked brokenly, his worry mounting in him. If she were all right, surely Draco would have told him by now.

Draco's frown suddenly morphed into an amused smile. "She's fine, Harry. We were rear-ended. If you'd placed her in the trunk, she'd be a mess, but your feet anchored her during the crash, and the case didn't allow any damage."

Harry sighed. "Can I?" he tried to ask, but Draco beat him to it, already opening a case that had been sitting on the table by the bed. The sound of the familiar snaps brought a sensation of relief, and Harry closed his eyes, opening them against when he felt a weight settle on his torso.

There she was, in all her vibrant blue glory, Little Mischief. Surviving the crash without so much as the hint of a scratch. "Nice to know where I fall in your list of priorities," Draco teased.

"No. I saw you first," Harry croaked. He raised a hand to Draco's cheek and smiled as Draco kissed his fingertips. "What happened?"

"Concussion and whiplash, but otherwise you are just fine, Mr. Potter," a stern female voice answered. Draco took Little Mischief as the nurse checked Harry over. "You'll be discharged as soon as you drink down this cup of water." She held out the cup and Harry accepted it, sipping at the contents dutifully. "Take your time, dear," she said, before she left.

"Co?" Harry asked, and Draco appeared again by his bedside.

"Like I said. We were rear-ended. Nothing too major, the car's been taken to a shop, it should be fine, but I intend to sell it. Bad chi, right?" Draco asked, trying to make a joke of it. He was rewarded by a small smile. "I had whiplash and a bruise from the damn seatbelt, but I'm fine. When I was released I found my way over here, and now, three hours later, you're awake. And we're free to go. Nothing exciting at all," Draco smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay," Harry said with a smile, he finished his water, and began to feel more like himself, though there were parts of his body that were aching horribly.

Draco placed a tender kiss on Harry's lips. "Me too," he said.

…………………………

Sirius sipped at his champagne glass and looked around the room. He was scanning for any sign of Harry and Draco, but could not find them. Vaguely he wondered if they had mixed up the dates, or maybe Harry had simply been too exhausted. Harry had called with news to the re-taping and Sirius could tell that his nephew needed a break.

With a disappointed sigh, Sirius turned and looked at one of his paintings. It was an abstract painting that he had done, inspired by one of Harry's performances on Little Mischief, though no one would likely be able to be certain that the blue swirl cradled in the black was a violin, and the swirls of color was the music that they made.

"The contrast in it is stunning," a man said as he stepped up to stand beside Sirius. Sirius turned his head slightly to see the man more clearly. He had long-ish sandy-colored hair, and looked young despite several grey hairs. He had bright amber colored eyed, and smiling features. "Though you get the impression that the artist is making a desperate attempt to garner attention, I mean, that blue."

Sirius turned back to the painting and tried to eye it critically. Well, he couldn't help it if Harry's damn violin was blue. _Plea for attention my ass_! Sirius thought to himself. He sulked and sipped some more champagne. Still, it was amusing to hear what his critics had to say. Sirius always enjoyed it when people tried to make sense out of his world.

"And the focal point is unclear. All-in-all, it seems highly probable that the artist was on some sort of acid trip at the time of its creation. What do you say?" the man asked, a friendly and amused smile on his face.

Sirius was ready to open his mouth to comment, ready to toy with the bloke but he was interrupted as Shelly, the woman who had organized the showing, came up to him. "Sirius! What are you doing all the way over here? I'm brokering huge deals for you. This one's sold. Come see if we can wrangle a fine price for that sculpture of the Beast." Shelly called it the beast, Harry called it the phoenix-dragon, Sirius didn't really know what the hell it was, but it looked very striking and he was fond of it.

"Sure, Shell," he said with a smile. He turned back and caught sight of the man who now stood, looking quite red, and fidgeting. Shelly smiled pleasantly at the other man before she was off once more.

"I don't suppose there's any way that you're sharing this showing, and only by mere coincidence, happen to have the same name as the artist of this painting?" the man asked.

"No," Sirius said with a wry smile. "Sorry," he grinned and sipped at his champagne, enjoying the man's discomfort, he found it oddly endearing. Mostof his critics were not at all abashed to be found cutting-up his world. Sirius was used to that, it came with the territory. His amusement continued to increase as the stranger became more and more flustered.

"I apologize, it's just – well, there's really nothing for it," he said.

"An acid trip, hm?" Sirius said, turning back to view the painting entitled: "Boy with the Blue Violin". Harry had named it in honor of all the other silly and obvious names which artist's tended to give their work, and Sirius, thinking it was funny, had officially titled the piece such.

"I'm so sorry," the man said, sounding thoroughly mortified.

"Do I have to worry about a write-up stating that I am on drugs when I paint in any of the art journals?" Sirius asked, trying to casually find more information out about the man.

"Erm. No. I know nothing about art, actually," the man admitted. "I'm not really fond of modern art, anyway. My friend invited me."

"Your friend?" Sirius inquired.

"Yes, Margaret Funton."

"I know her," Sirius said. Margaret Funton was the woman who owned the building. "Is _she_ enjoying the show?" Sirius couldn't help but tease.

"Yes," the man offered. He still could not meet Sirius' eye. "Look. I really am sorry for my comments."

"Think nothing of it. I'm used to people's varying opinions. You have to be, especially with the way I paint. Forget it ever happened. We'll start over." Sirius grinned as the man seemed surprised at how easily Sirius could let the harsh comments slide. "I didn't catch your name."

"Erm, I'm sorry," the man said, and suddenly offered a hand. "My name is Remus Lupin."

"Sirius Black," Sirius said, shaking the hand and grinning. "Pleasure to meet you."

Lupin, seemingly catching on, grinned and then gasped. "_The_ Sirius Black? The one who did all of this fabulous work?"

Sirius puffed up his chest. "One and the same. I'm offering autographs, if you'd like." The man laughed and Sirius found the sound infectious. Soon they were talking in earnest and Sirius could not help but be surprised at the steadily increasing feeling of giddiness that was filling him.

When Shelly tracked them down later on, they had migrated to one of the plus seats in the gallery and were conversing like old friends, each nursing another glass of champagne. This time she would not allow Sirius to dismiss her so easily.

"Alas, we must part," Sirius said, sighing dramatically. "But if you'd be interested in seeking sustenance with me some evening in the future, I'd be happy to oblige."

"I'd enjoy that," Remus said with a smile. "Do you mind if I borrow your autographing pen?" Sirius laughed and handed a pen over as Remus scribbled something on a paper napkin. "There," he said as he handed both the napkin and the pen over. "For whenever you feel the need to seek sustenance." Sirius tried very hard not to take that comment in any other sense, though the other implications in the statement had him grinning like a fool as Shelly pulled him over to converse with some of the buyers of his work.

-

TBC

I felt a bit like a cop-out when I realized that people thought Draco and Harry were the source of the unwanted proposal. I apologize, if anyone was disappointed. Trust me, Draco and Harry have a lot of trials and tribulations coming their way, but right now, this was not one of them.

This chapter **Dedicated **to **Angelic Candy**! Thanks for your supportive review! (And long!) I'm trying to show the 'complexity of life' without going over the top, and still peddling to my own hopelessly romantic nature, so what you said about Ron and Hermione, and also about the 'falsely foreshadowed' break-up between Harry and Draco was very great to hear. Thanks for not demanding me to work like a slave on the fic! I can never work on this when I'm trying to force it. It's funny, I'll just have days when I'll wake up and think: today I'll finish that chapter of "Absolute Pitch", and I do. So thanks a lot for your support!

-

TEASER:

Patching things up

A visit and a fight

A nice cup of tea

-

i 'That movie' being _Amelie_


	4. The Politics of Breathing

**Title:** _The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch_

**Author:** Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Four:** The Politics of Breathing

_The leather feels soft under his fingers as he sinks his nails into it. He's certain he's punctured it but it doesn't matter._

_Not much does._

_Just the sound of squealing tires and the acrid scent of burning rubber that masks the smell of blood is chokes the confined space. His ears fill with her shout as she braces herself – he watches her profile as she turns and, for the first time he can recall, curses under her breath. _

_His head is aching but he doesn't know why -- doesn't realize he's knocked it hard against the glass and he's got a concussion and he's bleeding, and also that he's left a smudge of blood across the window. He doesn't notice any of it because at that moment he's clutching a hand tight in his while his other hand gropes for some purchase on anything, something more stable than he is because he's sliding about in the seat._

_And then there's a rush of cold air and the feel of nails clawing at the skin of his right hand and he only just processes that he's lost his grip on his brother's hand before the breath is knocked out of him and there's a sharp pain in his head that dulls to an ache as the world grays for a moment. _

_He squints, because his glasses are gone, broken somewhere, likely some of the pieces are now lodged in his skin, and he can make out a bright flickering light, and he feels hot – and tired, so very tired and his head hurts and there's something sticky that's making it hard to keep his eyes open, and he suddenly decides there's no point in fighting it. _

_He rests his head against the shards of glass and the rough road, too tired to move, to even breathe, the air is too thick with the acrid tang of smoke for breath anyway. _

_And then his world goes black._

Harry's eyes flash open and it takes him a moment to catch his breath, and when he does he blinks up in confusion at his lover, who's braced above him and looking at him with concern.

"What are you doing?" he asks, quietly, because the room is dark and he's not certain if he's awake.

"You had a nightmare," Draco answers. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Harry says. Besides his rapid breaths that are calming now that his eyes have opened, and the cold sweat Harry has no recollection of any night horrors. "I'm fine," he says again, as if repetition will make it so.

Draco sighs and shifts down to lie beside his lover once more, and Harry creeps into his arms, which tighten around him. "Do you want to talk about it?" Draco asks in a quiet whisper, and Harry simply tucks his head under his lover's chin and shakes it just slightly. Draco sighs but does not push. "Can you go back to sleep?" Draco asks instead, Harry smiles to himself and wonders if Draco knows that his hands have move to tangle in his hair. Harry doesn't mention it; he finds it soothing when Draco plays with his hair.

"Of course," Harry answers. "I don't remember what I dreamed." Draco places a kiss on his forehead and Harry closes his eyes.

……………………..

Draco didn't fall back to sleep.

He knew that their recent accident had affected Harry. He knew the instant they were discharged from the hospital and Harry hesitated on the front steps, looking with trepidation at the street where Draco was already heading to hail a cab. Draco had tactfully suggested that they take the Underground, claiming that waiting for a taxi would take too long.

Harry had been quiet, more so than usual, but Draco had dismissed this, knowing that the car accident, however minor, was bound to stir memories in his lover of a much more severe accident that had happened years ago when Harry was still at school, which claimed the lives of his family and left him relatively unscathed, save for that pale jagged scar on his forehead. Still, Draco thought that Harry could work it through, if given time.

Time had come when a very understanding Finbar had promised to rework the rerecording schedule to give Harry a bit of a break. It had been three days since the accident, and Harry had yet to venture anywhere near a car, and he still suffered nightmares.

Draco wasn't a fool. He knew three days was hardly going to be enough time for Harry to get over the reawakened memories of that trauma, but it was the fact that Harry seemed so completely oblivious to it, that Harry had made absolutely no progress at all, not even in acknowledging that the crash had brought bad memories to the fore.

Draco shifted, bracing his back against the headboard and pulling Harry up to rest more comfortably on his chest. Draco didn't plan on returning to sleep at all; he had too much to think on.

…………………………..

"It's not anything like that," Hermione said as she dished out more green beans onto Harry's plate. He had only just managed to divert her from her fussing over him about the accident and Draco was being no help whatsoever, snickering as the young woman's antics.

"Then what, pray tell, _is_ the inconsiderate lout's problem?" Draco asked.

"Draco," Harry scolded, giving him a swift kick under the table.

"He wants kids. It's not an irrational thing, really. We've been married for a while so of course he'd want them. It's just I'm not ready for them." Hermione had been found at eleven o'clock knocking furiously at their apartment door. She had come bearing gifts in the form of various dishes she had cooked. Harry had done his best to sooth her nerves, downplaying the accident -- which really hadn't been that bad -- while Draco had only encouraged his friend to fuss, especially over Harry. Still, it was clear that Hermione was also being driven by a need to escape her work and find human contact, someone compassionate to her own problem. Harry was only too happy to take advantage of something, anything, to distract her from her fussing.

"I think –" Harry started, but was cut-off when the phone rang, and he rolled his eyes and rose to answer it, leaving Draco and Hermione and his dinner reluctantly.

"What happened to you?" Draco asked as soon as Harry had left to answer the phone.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, sounding mildly affronted.

"I mean, the Hermione I knew in high school wouldn't be driving herself crazy over something like this!" Draco hissed, trying to keep quiet so that Harry didn't return.

"Draco, I don't know what your problem is, but this is a big thing!" Hermione snapped back, also trying to keep her tones quiet. Peacemaker that he was, Harry would never stand for them fighting, but sometimes a fight was exactly what was needed.

"I understand that. Babies are a big issue," Draco said, rolling his eyes to show what he thought of the subject matter. "But really, you've changed! You're sitting here, fretting and whining and bitching over something that you can't help!"

"People change, Draco!" Hermione snarled. "And I'm not bitching. I'm sorry if I'm going through a tough time and made the mistake of thinking I could talk to you."

"Don't give me that bullshit," Draco shot back. "You know exactly what I mean. I'm saying that you've done what you can, now it's Ron's problem. You've already spoken to me, and to Harry, but you refuse to let it go! You keep bringing it up! What happened to the Hermione who would have realized that she'd already done exactly what had to be done, and that it was only a matter of time before her goddamn husband snapped back to his senses! This isn't right, Hermione, this isn't like you! I've not had a proper conversation with you in ages and I really need my friend right now!"

Hermione sat back in her chair and glared, but could not bring herself, in light of Draco's admission, to snap something back at her friend. The truth was part of her anger at the whole thing was directed at herself, it wasn't that she was feeling selfish for wanting to put her career before her family, or at least, the family her husband wanted to start, it was because this entire issue had escalated out of proportion. Hermione knew at one time she could have done exactly what Draco was saying, which was keep a level head and look at the entire thing logically. Somehow, though, Hermione had lost that bit of herself. How could she explain that there was just so much pressure to 'settle down' and 'start a family'. Whenever Ron's parents invited them to dinner the topic was always brought up. How do you explain to a woman who happily bore seven children that you really had no desire to 'settle down', that you were really happy with your work and your husband and couldn't imagine adding a little baby to look after and support.

Added to this, Hermione wondered if, when and if she felt like having a baby, she could explain to her husband that she had no intention of being a happy 'stay at home' mum. It had always grated on her, the implied expectation that having a baby went hand-in-hand with 'quitting your job and changing your priorities'. Hermione could never be happy confined to the house, cleaning it and cooking and doing laundry. That wasn't to say that there was something wrong with mothers who happily did this, it just really wasn't for her. But all of that was something else entirely because the point was Hermione just really wasn't ready to have a baby and was more than a little fed-up with all the pestering. Just once she'd like to sit down for dinner with her parents and her husband's parents and her husband, and not be nagged about having a baby and having to tolerate the look Ron always gave her that only she ever saw, that sort of said 'well, when are we?'.

"God, Draco, I'm sorry," she huffed, tangling her hands into her hair and bracing her elbows on the table. "It's just driving me crazy. Everything was so wonderful and settled and then slowly it's been escalating and now the entire problem is just driving me mad and you're absolutely right. Give me a moment." She said it all pretty much in one breath and then promptly closed her eyes, but experience told her that Draco would have leaned back in his chair, quirked and eyebrow and be smirking. Ordinarily she would want to hit him, but at that moment she was preoccupied.

"Okay," she said after a moment, letting out a breath, opening her eyes and sitting up at the table. "It's out of my head. Now how are things for you, really?" she asked. She watched as Draco turned thoughtful and then, just as he was about to open his mouth, Harry reentered the kitchen.

"I'm back," Harry said. "Sorry." He went to counter and poured a cup of coffee. Hermione noted this with a small frown and kept an eye on Draco. Harry didn't often drink coffee, except for his morning cup.

"Who was it?" Draco asked.

"Hm?" Harry asked, distractedly. "Oh. Just Finn, nothing important. Look, I'm going out for a bit, but I'll be back before you're in bed, I promise." Harry flashed a grin, downed the rest of his coffee, kissed Hermione's forehead briefly, kissed Draco on the lips with enthusiasm and was then out of the kitchen and out of the loft before Draco could ask him where he was going.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"I haven't a clue. He's been acting oddly since the accident. It's been hard on him."

"But I thought you said it wasn't serious!" Hermione cried, instantly feeling worried for her two friends.

"It wasn't. Not at all. But it brought things up for him. It isn't, after all, the first car accident he's been in." Hermione bit her lip as she recalled when Harry had felt close enough to confide about his parent's and his brother's deaths. She knew it trouble him, but she had never given it much thought. It had happened so long ago that Hermione didn't think on it often.

"That's horrible. How is he managing?" she asked.

"Not as well as he would have me believe," Draco admitted with a heavy sigh.

………………….

The restaurant was busy, but somehow the noise wasn't distracting as they sat at their table in the corner and ate dinner. In truth, it was more a pub than a restaurant, Sirius had chosen it because it was comfortable and the food was always good. It never occurred to him that it wasn't exactly a romantic spot for a first date. And all of that made the entire thing even more disconcerting, because not a single aspect of the entire thing required thought. It had just seemed bloody natural, from the phone conversation in which Sirius ended-up inviting Remus out for a bite, to picking the other man up at his home to selecting the pub. It seemed as if he'd done it a hundred times before.

It wasn't the first date Sirius had been on, not by far. He'd been very popular in school, and that hadn't much changed when he had left it. Still, despite his confidence and easy-going nature, nothing had ever before required such little effort on his part, except, maybe, being with Harry. But he and his nephew had always had a strange understanding of each other. Sirius never thought to have that same understanding with someone else not related to him – a practical stranger, no less.

Conversation between them was remarkably easy, and enjoyable and when Sirius finally realized the time, three hours had sped by just sitting at the pub, eating dinner and talking.

"I never did get that autograph you promised me," Remus said with a smile as Sirius drove back in the direction of Remus' apartment.

"You're absolutely right!" Sirius gasped. He pulled to the curb in front of Remus' place and made a show of pulling out a pen and, when paper proved illusive in his car, a napkin and signing.

Remus accepted the napkin with a rakish grin and then, glancing at it, laughed. "I must be very special indeed. Not only an autograph, but personal information as well?" Remus teased.

Sirius stuck his tongue in his cheek and grinned for a moment before schooling his features into a serious expression. "Yes. Very special," he said, then quickly jerked Remus into a surprise kiss.

Sirius kept it brief, in case he had moved too fast and had spooked the other man, but as he moved to pull away, Remus wound an arm around the back of his head and pulled him close once more.

……………………

The phone was ringing and Harry was still in the shower, which meant that Draco had to cease his practice and answer it. The brief conversation that ensued startled him, and when Harry came out of the bathroom, dressed only in his jeans, and toweling his hair dry, he was confronted by Draco, who looked angry, concerned and surprisingly lost.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, immediately dropping the towel and taking a step towards his lover.

"I got a call," Draco said, and Harry stopped at the tone. "From a car dealership," Draco continued. "They said they had an estimate on how much you could get for the truck." There was a moment of silence and Draco, arms crossed, quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't know we were selling the truck.

"I decided to," Harry said with forced casualness.

"Why?" Draco pressed.

"It's silly to have it," Harry shrugged. "We're never both in need of the car at once."

"That's bullshit, Harry, and you know it. It's one thing to be afraid of cars and things, I can understand that. But to lie to me? To go behind my back like this and try to push away the problem instead of dealing with it outright? Harry that isn't like you, and frankly I'm concerned."

"That isn't what's going on!" Harry snapped, his face flushing and eyes crackling with anger. He was defensive, and that in itself proved to Draco that it was exactly what was going on. "You don't understand," Harry insisted.

"I don't understand? I understand that you have nightmares about the accident and that those old feelings you thought you'd dealt with are resurfacing with a vengeance."

"You don't understand!" Harry yelled, and the helpless fury in it jolted Draco. "You don't understand any of it, so stop saying that you do!" And then Harry turned on his heal, snatched the shirt he'd left out on the bed and was out of the bedroom and out of the loft, door slamming behind him.

"Shit," Draco breathed from where he stood in the bedroom, frozen with shock.

…………………………..

Ginny found him at the pub a block from the loft. It wasn't much of a surprise to her, the pub was small and welcoming, Harry had stumbled upon it with Blaise while Draco and Harry had been in the process of moving into the loft. It was a long process, considering they were repainting some of the rooms, and their busy schedules made it impossible to co-ordinate time to move-in together. Blaise and Harry had been working on setting up the guest room and had gone out in search of lunch. It hadn't taken long before Harry and Draco and the others became acknowledged as familiar faces in the little pub.

"You didn't make it very far," she commented as she slipped onto the stool beside her friend who was already nursing a beer. Her comment was rewarded with a flippant shrug. "You're serious tonight," she tried, gesturing to the beer. Harry wasn't much of a drinker, and when he did drink it was usually coolers or rum and coke, despite the teasing he got from his friends.

"I'm fine," Harry answered, and Ginny nodded, waving for the bartender's attention and indicating that she'd have what Harry was having. "You're serious tonight," he shot back with a smirk.

"Yeah, well. You're not the only one with troubles."

"Apparently not," Harry said. He finished his pint and the bartender dutifully went to refill it after depositing Ginny's drink in front of her.

"Ugh," she winced as she sipped at her pint. "This tastes like shit."

Harry laughed and shook his head. His smile soon turned to a frown and he flashed her a sidelong glance, grimacing slightly. "So you were sent after me to provide, what, therapy?" he asked.

"Hey, I told you, you aren't the only one with problems. I'm well within my rights to wash the grief away with liquor." He managed a more sincere smile and shifted an arm to pat her back, a gesture that she returned.

For a while they just sat there, comfortable sip their drinks and think things over. Finally Ginny took a breath and shifted to face him more directly. "I know things have been a bit crazy for you," she said, trying to touch on the topic while also attempting to avoid it. "I can understand that you've been thrown for a loop and you're just trying to get a handle on things and come to terms with stuff. And you know, Harry, that's okay. In fact, that's wonderful because once you get it all sorted out, then that's it, you'll have resolved it and it will sit better with you. I know it will probably always hurt, but it doesn't have to feel like a fresh wound all the time, right?" She waited, to allow her words to sink in. "The thing that I don't understand is pushing Draco away. He's just trying to help, and you're going to need someone to hold you steady while you deal with this. I'm just worried, that if you push him away then you won't have someone to keep you steady. You can avoid everyone else to damn well," she chided with a grin. "You distract us and hide from us and divert us far too easily. Right now, at least, even Ron can't be trusted to stay focused on your issues and not his own. But Draco can, he's always been there for you, just like you've been there for him, and it isn't fair to brush him off because you should damn well know by now, Harry, that whatever affects one also affects the other."

There was silence again and she knew that Harry was thinking over her words. Finally Harry turned to look at her and flashed a real smile, though it was a small one, and then he quirked his head to the side and looked at her seriously.

"So what are your problems, then?" Harry asked, sipping the drink that was placed before him.

"You haven't had enough of playing therapist for everyone yet?" When he merely looked back at her, she rolled her eyes. "You're call," she shrugged. "It's just … it's all shit, you know?"

Harry snorted and then let out a short barking laugh. "Seems a bit pessimistic." When Ginny didn't say anymore he shrugged. "At the very least, it's a very broad statement."

"Everyone always said that this romance and relationship stuff is bullshit." Harry frowned at her and she shrugged. "Neville asked me to marry him." She was waiting for him to smile and congratulate her like her friends had when she'd attempted to talk to them, but Harry was smarter than that. "I turned him down," she explained, and once again Harry didn't seem at all surprised. "You're not going to lecture me about it? How he was a great catch and was perfect for me. And we could have been happy together?"

"Should I?" Harry asked.

Ginny shrugged. "It's what my mum did when I told her. It's what my friends did, too."

"How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know. Like I said, this relationship stuff is bullshit. It just seems … like a waste of time. Like a waste of breath."

"Are you talking about Neville specifically, or relationships in general?"

"I dunno … Well, relationships in general." She shrugged, wondering where her bitterness had suddenly come from. "It's like, I see couples, you know, and they seem happy and everything is fine, but then you find out that one is fucking around, or that the other is so stupid that they sacrifice everything, every damn thing for their partner, and then you wonder what the good in that is. It seems like a joke."

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked.

"Why not? Clearly this stuff is working as a truth serum on me, I'm liable to admit to anything. Take advantage of it," she joked and was rewarded with a smile from Harry.

"Where is this coming from? Because, it seems to me that the main relationships that you've experienced, and the relationships between people who are close to you aren't dysfunctional. I mean, Ron and Hermione are in the middle of a fight, and Draco and I are driving each other crazy, but for the most part, they're pretty standard relationships."

"You mean what am I using as basis for my bitterness?" she joked, then shrugged. "What am I _not_ using as foundation? You can't deny that there is an non-proportionate number of shitheads and dickheads and tarts compared to worthwhile catches out there."

"Is that why you turned Neville down?" Harry asked, and something in his tone made her realize he wasn't scolding her or mocking her or trying to instruct her, he was simply trying to understand where she was coming from.

"No," she admitted honestly. "Neville is something different."

"So why did you?"

"It was too easy," she said, and shrugged. "I sound horrible to say that, but it's what I felt. I mean, he's wonderful, you know? And I could see myself settling down with this sweet caring guy that I dated when I went to school." She paused. "One of the few boyfriends I've ever had. In fact, one of two boyfriends I ever had. And that would be it, I got it right, I got married, I settled down. So then what?" She took another sip of her drink. "I mean, then we have kids? Then we have the perfect life? It sounds crazy, right? I mean, how many people would kill for it all to be so easy? But when he asked me, I just thought 'oh god'."

"Oh god?" Harry prompted.

"You know. The world might be filled with a non-proportionate number of shitheads and dickheads and tarts, but fuck if I've ever encountered them. My friends have, and I know they're out there, but I've never dated any of them. I've never gotten my heart broken. I mean, I dated Collin Creevey for a few months when I was in school, but our break-up was totally painless, we just both looked at each other one day and laughed and shook our heads and agreed that friends was better than lovers for us. And here I was, with this sweet guy offering me forever and all I could think was that the 'forever' he was offering me would be just like the years before, when we were together. Small tiffs, but mostly complete compatibility and understanding and love. Do I sound like an idiot for wishing that just once I could have a mad torrid affair and get my heart so thoroughly broken that I consider becoming a recluse or joining a convent?"

"Not really," Harry said with a grin. "You've got plenty of time, Gin. There's no reason for you to be thinking about settling down permanently."

"I'm twenty-one, Harry! It's not like I have a lot of time!"

"You're twenty-one!" Harry shot back. "You have _loads_ of time!"

"It's different for girls!" she argued.

"Only if you want it to be. Don't sell yourself short. You're not ready for a full commitment, at least, not yet, so you did what was right for you. It might have hurt Neville, but you would have done a lot more hurt to the both of you if you'd accepted, because you'd always have been thinking in the back of your head that you wanted to try something reckless, only you couldn't anymore because now you're married. And then you'd just resent him."

They sat quietly and drank some more, periodically asking for refills, and Ginny noted that Harry had switched to rum and coke, which she didn't think exactly mixed well to the beer but she didn't push it.

"Remember when we were kids?" she asked, breaking a long-standing, though comfortable silence. "When you and Ron were practically inseparable and we'd always be doing everything together?"

Harry smiled. "Yeah, I remember."

"I think I loved you," she admitted.

Harry smiled wider at her and threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "I know."

…………………………..

Friday night found Draco hastily and awkwardly preparing the dinner that Harry had started while Narcissa sat on the loveseat in the living room with his lover and talked in that low voice she used when she was talking about serious matters. Draco was very familiar with that tone and was surprised to find that he was happy she had dropped by, however unexpectedly.

Narcissa had kept in contact with Draco and Harry, calling every Thursday evening to see how things were going and to catch-up. The day before, Draco had confided in his mum the difficulty Harry was having and she had taken it upon herself to come and help the both of them in any way she could.

Since his graduation, and his parents' divorce, Draco had gotten to know his mother in a way he simply hadn't before, and he valued her support and opinion. It made him impossibly happy that she had accepted him so easily, and even more proud that she and Harry got along so well.

Draco removed the wooden spoon from the pot where he had been stirring the fettucine and took a glance out to the living room, watching with a fond smile as Harry laughed about something, the previous tension that had held Harry's slim frame stiff not as prominent as it had been. It was unrealistic to think that Harry's problems were solved or that things could go back to normal, but Draco would settle for Harry coming to terms with it all, and being able to move beyond it.

……………………….

"You cannot possibly go through life continually focused on every little thing you would have changed and how that would have made everything better," Narcissa said after a period of silence. She shifted her hand and stroked the dark hair out of Harry's eyes and smiled at him. "Things like this never go away, the stay with you and they change you, and no one can really understand unless they went through something similar.

"Some people are lucky enough to go through their entire life never experiencing something so traumatic that it changes absolutely everything in a heartbeat. For those who aren't so lucky," she continued, "the only option is to deal with it as it comes."

"I've been doing that since the day I woke-up in hospital. Apparently it hasn't been working as well as I thought it was," Harry answered with a bemused smile.

"You can't break yourself up with guilt. It doesn't get you anywhere. I won't say to you that it isn't hard, or that what happened wasn't horrible and that you should get over it. I won't belittle what you feel or what happened." She paused and smiled a little when he turned to meet her eyes.

Narcissa had grown very fond of her son's lover. She thought of Harry as another son, and burst with pride at his accomplishments as any mother would. It wrecked her to see him so distraught, but she knew she couldn't make this better, she couldn't heal this hurt over. She had known Harry long enough to understand this one thing about him, and for that, she braced herself and again stroked his hair.

"If you feel guilt because you survived then the only way you can repay it is to prove that you are worth it. For your mother and father, and for your brother, throw everything you have into living, and live enough for the four of you."

"I don't know if I can," Harry admitted quietly.

"Oh, I think you can," she smiled. "You've been doing it since the accident. There were plenty of opportunities for you to have given-up, or cowered back, but you didn't. You've always tried. There's no reason now, after what you've come through, to suddenly decide to give-up."

Harry sighed, relishing the feel of having someone acknowledge his feelings and not dismiss them. It had been long enough that Harry knew that there was nothing that he could have done to help his family. The only thing he could have done differently was buckle his seatbelt, and then he would have died along with them. But still, a piece of him always wondered why he had survived, why not his mother, or his brother, or his father? Was he worth it? Did they look down on him and feel pride?

Narcissa rose from the seat and bent to drop a kiss to his hair. "Now, my son has likely burnt the pasta, spilt the sauce, singed the chicken and broken a few dishes, but dinner seems to be ready." Harry turned to see Draco setting down the bowl of fettuccine alfredo onto the table. As he went to join Narcissa at the table, Draco caught Harry's arm and drew his body close.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked quietly, whispering the question into Harry's ear.

Harry turned, positioning his lips close to his lover's ear and whispered, "When your mother leaves, I plan to lay you out on the fur rug in our lovely living room and devour you as my second dinner."

Feeling satisfied with the flush that appeared on Draco's cheeks, and the erection he could feel pressing into his hip, Harry turned away from the blond and seated himself at the table, pouring wine for Narcissa. She had made a very solid point, he decided, and there was no reason why he shouldn't start following her advice immediately.

TBC

Someone asked a question regarding same-sex marriages, since obviously it's an issue if Draco plans to propose to Harry. I have to be honest and say I really don't know if it's legal in England, (I don't think it is, but I may be wrong), but frankly, it isn't going to stop me! It's at times like this that I point meaningfully at the little badge on this fic that says 'AU', I'm taking liberties, after all, I've never worked in the music business, and technically Draco wouldn't be allowed to be slacking like this, I don't think. I just go with the flow…

I just wanted to thank everyone for being so patient. Things have been really chaotic and busy but I've started the next chapter and it definitely won't be so long for the update. Sorry for this not so stellar chapter, but I was eager to get something posted.

This chapter **dedicated** _Lactuca_ for such an amazing review. After reading, I got right down to work on this chapter! It was such an incredibly thoughtful and thorough review! Thanks so very much. And no, my chapter titles aren't quotes from anything, just things that occur to me. I'm glad my teasers don't give everything away, I sometimes worry about it. Thank-you again!

**And**

To _Fritzi Rosier. _I'm glad that you 'gave-in' and that you're enjoying. Never fear, angst for our main lovelies is on the way, hell, no one's relationship is perfect. And I love putting Harry through hell, it's irresistible! Thanks so much for the long review! It made my day and got me working on this chapter. Angst comes to those who wait! -

TEASERS:

An unexpected visit

Cruel and unusual behavior

Difficult departures

Inevitable reunifications

-----------------------


	5. Advice to the Lovelorn: Part One

**Title:** _The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Five:** Advice to the Lovelorn

------------------------

Harry moaned and thrust his hips up as Draco blew cool air against his damp ear, and down the track of wet that ran up the column of his neck. Draco's hands were busy unbuttoning Harry's jeans, his shirt long-since undone, his arms were the only things still stuck in the sleeves, as Draco had pushed it off his chest and shoulders.

"God," Harry said, as he felt Draco's fingertips ghosting across his skin, just beneath the waistband of his boxers. Harry's fingers flexed, once – twice, where they were clutching his lover's hair.

"Shh," Draco whispered into Harry's gasping mouth before he closed the small gap, dipping his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry's hips were out of his control and he was thrusting them repeatedly against the hand that was teasing him, pressing close to his lover's body as Draco proceeded to drive him wild.

Harry had already stripped Draco of his shirt and had managed to undo his pants and they were both without any shoes or socks. They had made it to the bed, Harry sprawled across the width of it on his back, and Draco bent above him. Harry was certain he was going insane with the building pleasure, but despite his pleas and threats Draco continued, unrelenting, to assault each and every one of Harry's sensitive areas. It had been some time since Harry had been able to utter any intelligible sound, besides the word 'God' that was usually gasped or groaned. It was debatable whether Harry was aware he was making any sound at all, intelligible or otherwise.

Harry arched upwards violently and almost unseated Draco as the blond finally pulled the jeans off of the lithe form beneath him. Harry's hair was more disarrayed than was usual, his eyes were glazed but they soon squeezed tightly shut and his hands curled into the bed sheets above his head as Draco found that spot on the dip of his hip. The blond hadn't even completely removed his boxers yet – hadn't even touched his cock. "God," Harry near-sobbed, eyes still clenched shut and Draco smiled to himself, tugging once more just a little, on the boxers, revealing a touch more skin. He was just about to set back to work when there was a knock on the door.

"Fuck," Draco sighed.

"God," Harry groaned, seeming to become slightly more aware of his surroundings, though his eyes were still glazed. "Ignore it," he managed. Draco was only too happy to obey.

That is, until the knocking turned to pounding, and a loud voice was added to the mix. "Harry!" the voice called, slurring Harry's name and managing to make it eight syllables long. "Wakey wakey!" the voice called.

"It's two o'clock in the morning," Draco whispered in disbelief.

"Maybe he'll go away," Harry said, his voice sounding desperate.

"Harry!" A loud call.

"He's going to wake the entire bloody building!" Draco hissed, he reluctantly sat up and scooted towards the edge of the bed. "I'll get it. Maybe he'll go away if it's me."

"And do what, _drive_ home?" Harry asked. "He's sloshed. Here, I'll go." He rose and, clad in his boxers – which here riding low on his hips – and his white button-down – which he had to pull back onto his shoulders – hair tousled, body glowing with a thing sheen of sweat, and looking like the walking embodiment of sex, Harry began to stumble towards the bedroom door, struggling to do-up his shirt-buttons.

"Harry! I know you're there!" the voice called, and Harry was forced to give-up the attempt to make himself presentable in exchange for getting to the door before Ron got any louder. "Harry!" Ron cried. "It's so good to see you! I've missed you!" Ron cried when Harry had opened the door, and immediately threw his arms around his startled friend.

"I saw you this afternoon, Ron. We had lunch," Harry said, struggling to support his inebriated friend and shut the door. Draco appeared at his shoulder and closed the front door for him, and then took one of Ron's arms and proceeded to drag him towards the sofa.

"What the hell happened to you, Weasley?" Draco drawled in that superior tone he got when he was not pleased with something.

"The marshmallows made me drunk," Ron explained helpfully as he plunked heavily onto the couch.

Draco and Harry shared a look and Draco sighed. "I'll get the blankets." Harry flashed his lover a pained smile and returned to settling his friend onto the couch.

"Remember that game we used to play when we were kids?" Ron asked, and Harry tried to wrack his mind for the specific game out of their long repertoire that his friend might be talking about. "The one with the horses and the funny hats."

"Cowboys and Indians?" Harry asked with a confused frown after a moment of silence.

"Boycows and Inniskillin!" Ron crowed.

"Ron, we never played cowboys and Indians," Harry said, accepting the blankets that Draco passed him.

"Isn't that an American thing, Weasley? An _old_ American thing?" Draco asked.

"Let's play again!" Ron decided. "I'll be the anthropologist and you be the Native."

Draco quirked an eyebrow and flashed a teasing look at his lover. "I always knew you were a geek as a child."

"We didn't play anthropologist and native, either!" Harry insisted as Ron threw off the covers Harry had been tucking around him and proceeded to leap off the couch.

"It sounds kind of kinky to me," Draco said honestly, ignoring Ron as the red freckled man leaped and lurched about the room, already having changed the topic of conversation three times in the past few minutes, despite the fact that his conversation was really a monologue. He didn't seem to mind – or notice.

"You _would_ find something kinky in anthropologist and native," Harry snorted, standing up and trying to herd his inebriated best-friend back to the couch.

"Come _on_!" Draco retorted, following his lover over to Ron and trying to help drag the uncooperative man back to the makeshift bed. "You find something kinky about playing _doctor_!"

"Playing doctor _is_ kinky!" Harry insisted.

Ron burst into a poor rendition of what vaguely sounded like a song from 'Rent'. "If you don't think this is the best song _ever_," Ron said, turning his attention to Harry. "I'll fight you."

"There will be no abusing my lover in the house," Draco said.

"Why thank-you, Chickpea," Harry drawled saccharinely, dredging up an old joke between them from high school.

"If you want to abuse Harry, you can do it _outside_ so I can get some sleep," Draco continued, looking pointedly at Harry.

They wrangled Ron onto the couch and Harry fetched some water, a bucket in case of emergencies, and two tablets of aspirin that Ron proceeded to down before Harry could recommend saving them till the morning. "It tastes like rabies!" Ron declared, scrunching up his features at the taste of the aspirin he had swallowed.

"And you would know how?" Draco asked, at the same time Harry said, "It's just aspirin."

"Rabies candy!" Ron squealed and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"I'm taking this opportunity to declare that I don't approve of your choice of friends," Draco said.

"He's your friend, too," Harry reminded the blond. "Keep him occupied, I'll make some hot chocolate, that always helps him calm down."

"What do you suppose he drank?" Draco asked as he watched Ron giggle merrily to himself from where he had fallen from the couch onto the floor.

"I dunno. It's hard to say with him, he's not fussy about alcohol. Maybe he had some Irish coffee?"

"Irish coffee?" Draco asked in amusement, fending off Ron's attempts to get him to join into the sea shanty he'd started singing.

"Well, he said something about marshmallows," Harry's voice explained from somewhere in the kitchen.

"You don't put marshmallows in Irish coffee. It's doubtful that he was anywhere near marshmallows at all. But, speaking of coffee, make me a mug, I won't be getting any sleep at this rate," Draco requested.

"What are you talking about? I'll watch him," Harry insisted. "You just go get some rest. No sense us both being exhausted."

"You realize that's what you _always_ say?"

"It is?" Harry asked, poking his head around the kitchen to look at Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes and walked over to his lover where he proceeded to wrap his arms around the lean form, pulling Harry's back so it rested flush against his chest. "We have a distinct pattern when it comes to inebriated friends."

"We do?" Harry asked, closing his eyes and savoring the feel of his lover pressed close, the sensation of breath against his beck.

"It goes something as follows," Draco said. "A friend, usually Ron or Blaise, sometimes Seamus, arrives drunk on our doorstep and proceeds to wake us up, or interrupt a pleasant evening. You entertain and fuss over said friend until he, or very rarely, she, passes out on our couch. Then you insist that you have to stay up to make sure that they don't have trouble in the night, and then you inevitably pass-out from exhaustion. I end-up carting you to bed and then staying up to nurse whichever inebriated friend decided to drop by."

"Really?" Harry asked, sounding vaguely interested.

"Yes," Draco confirmed.

Harry turned in the embrace and pecked Draco on the corner of the mouth. "I love you," he said.

"I know," Draco said, then gave a long-suffering sigh and Harry laughed at him.

"It won't be that bad," Harry offered helpfully, and perhaps a little hopefully. "We'll manage just fine."

…………………………

Ron opened his eyes and it took him a moment to realize that the war zone he seemed to be sprawled in the middle of was actually Harry and Draco's apartment. A moment more, and his hangover caught up with him and he groaned pathetically and wondered what he'd done to deserve this, and swore he'd never drink again, and then wondered what the hell he had done last night.

"Draco," Ron managed when he noticed the blond quietly closing the door to the bedroom he'd just exited. "You're a great man, inspiring, incredible – what the hell did I do last night?"

Draco smirked and shook his head. "I don't know, and I don't want to know," he said. "You showed up here at about two in the morning. You do that again, incidentally, and I'm charging you by the hour."

Ron sighed in relief and settled back on the couch, happy that, whatever asinine things he'd done the night before, at least there were no witnesses who could hold it over him. "Good lord," he gasped when he caught sight of Draco's video camera sitting innocently on the coffee table. "Filming home videos?" Ron asked hopefully when Draco brought in a cup of tea and joined him in the living room.

Draco flashed a mischievous grin, and blinked his eyes. "Oh yes. Replaying all those fond memories from when we took the kids to Disneyland," he replied cherubically.

"What did I do?" Ron asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was an awful thing that Draco had started the second time Blaise had crashed on the couch in his and Harry's home. Filming him making an arse of himself and sharing the footage at the next group gathering. Draco said it was only fair that he should get a blackmail material for the disruptions that his friends caused him and his lover.

"Are you referring to when you reenacted 'Annie'? Or when you turned 'Gone With the Wind' into a musical and attempted to use my six hundred dollar lampshade as your flouncy skirt and fell on Harry – who you had decided was Ashley – when you attempted to woo him back to you with an off-key rendition of 'If You Think I'm Sexy'?"

"Good lord," Ron groaned as Draco proceeded to laugh cruelly at him. Not able to stand the humiliation, Ron got up and headed to the bathroom.

"Weasley!" Draco called, trying to keep his voice relatively quiet, as Harry was asleep in the bedroom. "Coming to Pansy's welcome back party?" he asked.

"Fuck," Ron hissed, and shut the door to the bathroom, locking it firmly behind him.

…………………….

When Harry awoke he felt a bit disoriented. The last thing he remembered was settling Ron back onto the couch after he had finally passed-out. Harry had been fairly certain he'd situated himself on the floor beside the couch in case he was needed, but now here he was, firmly tucked under the blankets of his and Draco's bed.

When he blinked open his eyes, he was immediately confronted with his lover's grey eyes staring back at him. "I told you so," Draco said casually.

It took him a moment to realize Draco was referring to last night's conversation about the ritual they had surrounding inebriated friends. "I'll talk to him today," Harry promised. "It's gone on long enough. How is he?"

"Locked himself in the bathroom when he realized we have footage," Draco answered.

Harry huffed. "You didn't tell him what was on it, did you?"

"A bit," Draco admitted.

"You ruined the surprise!" Harry huffed. "That's one of the best parts! He always sits there and denies he ever did any of it, and that's almost as funny as what he's denying he did in the first place!"

"I'm sorry," Draco said, though he did not sound overly repentant. "I didn't go into detail, though."

Harry sighed despondently. "That's something, at least." Then grinned and rolled his eyes. "Okay then, I'm cutting his sulking short." He hopped out of bed, feeling surprisingly spry since he wasn't usually a morning person, and got dressed.

"Pansy's coming in tonight," Draco reminded his friend.

"I know," Harry said.

"And Sirius called _again_," Draco said, watching Harry close for a reaction.

"Did you explain to him that we're fine? That I'm fine?" Harry asked. "That there is no point in him continually stalking me, and phoning me? That I'll still be fine the next time he calls?"

"He's just worried. He feels badly that he didn't get a call when it happened, because you know he would have met us at the hospital," Draco said, scooting out of bed to draw Harry back against his chest. He kissed Harry's exposed neck when Harry tilted his head in offering.

"That's why I told you not to call him," Harry said. The car accident hadn't been at all serious, and he'd wanted his uncle to enjoy his showing. Sirius had felt quite differently and had lectured both Harry and Draco about it several times, extracting promises from the both of them that, if anything like that ever happened again, they'd call as soon as they were able. He hadn't left Harry alone about. A day had yet to pass where Sirius didn't check in at least twice.

Draco nodded his head, turning Harry around and proceeding to button-up his lover's shirt. "Well, he's just worried. He knows you're still a bit off about cars and things."

"I've been driving!" Harry defended.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're still off about it," Draco said, running a hand through Harry's black tousled locks to straighten them. Harry at least didn't object to being in a car anymore, and had made several short trips where he took the wheel. It didn't change the fact that he was white as a ghost for the duration of the drive and just a heartbeat away from a panic attack. He had yet to go anywhere in the car by himself, and had lost his usual driving style of quick and controlled steering. Harry never even pushed the speeding limit anymore, he barely even met it.

"I hope you diverted him from calling back to speak to me," Harry said. He'd gotten just a bit tired of being fussed-over about his driving, and cars, and the accident and whatever.

"I did. All I had to do was mention that new bloke he's been seeing," Draco said.

"I'm so happy he's found someone," Harry said, and Draco caught himself from smiling. He'd done it again, distracted Harry with the very same trick he'd use to distract Harry's uncle. "I want to meet him, but Sirius wants a few more dates just to be sure. He doesn't want me to get attached, can you believe it? In case they don't work out. I had to explain to him that I'm not a child looking for a father figure; I just want to meet my uncle's lover! I think he's just trying to appear casual about it when we both know he's over the moon," Harry huffed.

"Which is a lovely difference from my mother and Severus," Draco huffed. "Neither one even tries to hide the fact that they're crazy for each other," Draco feigned disgust and Harry laughed at him. "They're going on their second honeymoon!"

"That's adorable!" Harry said with a grin.

"Please! They're not even married!" Draco huffed. The relationship between Severus and Narcissa never ceased to amuse Harry, mostly because of how Draco reacted to it. Narcissa had not married the man, though after her divorce from her husband, Lucius, was finalized she very well could have. Harry understood that after so many years of marriage, after having a child and raising him with very little support from her husband, and having it all end in divorce, that Narcissa would be hesitant to walk down that road again. Draco didn't see it that way, what he saw was that at the age of twenty-four, he had a more committed relationship with his lover than his own mother had with hers. Draco didn't resent it, nor did he disdain it, but he did squawk about it and huff quite dramatically, but to Harry and Narcissa's amusement. Of course, Harry could take it all in good humor because Narcissa was kind enough not to inflict the presence of Severus Snape on him. Harry had never got along with the old piano teacher, and was relieved that the thought of bringing the man over to any of the meetings they had never seemed to cross the woman's mind.

"They're in love, that's enough," Harry said distractedly as he popped into the bathroom to wash-up. He didn't see Draco's thoughtful look.

…………………….

"What are we doing here?" Ron squawked as Harry pulled to the curb in front of St. Giles' hotel.

"Something I should have done a while ago, but I didn't want to interfere," Harry said. "As your best-friend, it's my duty to support you no matter what you do. But it's also my obligation to set you right when you're being an idiot."

"What are you talking about? Why are we here?" Ron demanded, still not quite recovered from last night's binge.

"Hermione's been staying here," Harry explained. "And before you have a conniption, I have to say that it's one thing for couples to argue. That's completely normal and healthy – in fact, not having spats is what would be bad. It's also perfectly normal to disagree, and have completely contradictory opinions and to revisit an old argument a thousand times over because you can't seem to agree, or compromise. Where the trouble comes is when one person starts to rank their own opinion higher than the other person in the pair. When, instead of talking things out and trying to understand each other, you start to mock them or internalize everything and let it all fester."

"Harry –" Ron said.

"Let me finish," Harry said. "I can understand, because I've known you for so long, and I've known your family. And I can accept it, because it has nothing to do with me, or my friendship with you. Your parents chose to have a big family; it worked for them and they've loved every minute of it. So far, Bill and Charlie have followed in their footsteps, and that's amazing and wonderful, because they're happy. But you don't have to do what your family did. That worked for them, this works for you. And what I have trouble with is that both you and Hermione were happy with what you'd settled on. You _both_ thought it best hold-off having a baby for a while. It's easy for me to see why you suddenly changed your mind. I know your mum and I know she puts on pressure like you wouldn't believe. And it was fine before when you'd give in to her. It's not fine now, though, Ron," Harry said. "You're twenty-four, and living with your wife. You and your wife made a decision that suited you both. So it's not fine to give-in to your mum and make Hermione look like a selfish woman in the eyes of your family and to everyone else."

"I didn't meant to!" Ron denied.

"Of course you didn't," Harry huffed. "But that's what you did. You were both happy and content until your mum started harping about grandchildren, and then you turned right around on Hermione and started-in about babies." Harry looked up at the hotel where he knew his friend was staying and sighed. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. But I am going to call you on your shit, and this is it. You need to make a choice, if Hermione really means something to you, then you'd be willing to stand with her against anything, even your mum." A glance over at the redhead showed that he was taking all this in. "I only have one more thing to say," Harry said.

"What?" Ron asked, slightly stunned as if waiting for more words from some learned monk.

"Get out of the damn car," Harry said with a grin. Ron grinned back at him and rolled his eyes before he grabbed the handle of the car and exited.

"You'll be fine to get back?" Ron asked, knowing Harry didn't like driving on his own.

"Go, you bloody git, I'll manage," Harry said.

…………………….

Draco was prepared for Pansy to visit. He wasn't prepared for her to pop-in three hours before her flight was even supposed to land. And for Blaise to have chosen that same time to visit as well. He loved both his friends dearly, but he had to admit that they were horrible to each other. If Harry were there then maybe the fight could have been stopped. But as it was, Draco was left trying to ineffectively stop the pair.

"It's the best seller so far," Pansy was saying. "It's gotten rave reviews in all the journals, Draco. And I've been on tour for signings and publicity for ages! This is the first opportunity I had to get away!" Currently both Blaise and Pansy were speaking to Draco as if the other wasn't there, but the conversation was such that Draco knew the conversation wasn't at all directed to him.

"I've been busy with the opening of 'The Carnival', Blaise said. "But you know, Lucy has been such a godsend," he added. "I know you wouldn't care much, Draco, but she's gives the most amazing massages, just incredible. And she's always there whenever I get back from rehearsal. No muss, no fuss. She's just layed back and easy."

"I'll bet she's easy," Pansy smirked.

"And the biggest tits," Blaise continued. "Nice and firm. They fit so nicely in my hands," he held up his hands like he was holding on to Lucy's tits exactly at that moment.

"Do you mind?" Draco said, unable to see how they were warring with each other.

"You would care more about her tits than anything!" Pansy snapped.

"Well, they're better than yours," Blaise retorted maturely. "And she doesn't fucking harp on me all the time!"

"Harp on you?" Pansy asked. "Is that what you call have a mature discussion? I guess if you mess around with Barbie dolls long enough you develop the brain of a Ken!"

"You bint!" Blaise snarled.

"Would you stop?" Draco shouted, but by now both Pansy and Blaise had faced-off against each other.

"It's completely sick how you carry-on about her breasts," Pansy said. "Who in this room is supposed to give a goddamned about some twit's tits?" she asked. "Draco couldn't care less. Even if he wasn't madly in love with Harry, I doubt he'd be looking at cup size to establish his next date! Even if he _was_ straight."

"Don't drag me and Harry into this!" Draco said. "And the both of you shut up."

"We talk about these kinds of things," Blaise retorted. "We're friends. Friends talk about these kinds of things!"

"Draco, do you care about Lucy's cup size?" Pansy asked.

"No," he answered immediately, then shook his head. "I thought we were stopping this! I thought I said not to bring me into this!"

"You're just jealous!" Blaise said. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"Yesterday!" Pansy shouted. "But at least I'm decent about it and not discussing dick size in the middle of tea!"

"It couldn't have been worth talking about then!" Blaise snapped.

"Fuck, Blaise!" Draco snapped. "I'm going to toss you out on your fucking ear if you don't shut up!"

"Toss her out!" Blaise said.

"She's living here while she visits! And _she_ wasn't the one that starting sniping!" Pansy flicked her long hair over her shoulder and straightened her shoulders back. She looked very sophisticated standing there in heels and a casual black dress, her long hair down and wearing a sparkly pair of dangly earrings. In contrast, Blaise was wearing only his casual attire. Draco wondered if it was that Pansy clearly looked successful that had set Blaise off, or if it was just that they had really grown so distant from each other. After all, this wasn't the first time Blaise and Pansy had butted heads.

"Well, when she's swanning about and gushing about her damn book –" Blaise began, but was cut of as Draco proceeded to push him to the door and then out into the hallway.

"You're a good friend, Blaise, you really are. But you're being an ass. Pansy's here for the duration of her visit, so if you can't restrain yourself, don't visit. I'll phone you tonight." And then Draco shut the door and huffed.

"God," Pansy said, and Draco could see that she was upset by the argument. "He gets worse every time," she sighed. "When did he get so shallow?"

"Don't even try to think about it," Draco said. "Well," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "Welcome to London!"

Pansy laughed twice, two staccato hiccups of sound, sharp and slightly bitter. "Just – would you consider holding off my welcome back party?" she requested.

"Who said we were planning a party for you?" he asked, but when she threw him a pleading look, he nodded. "Sure. But let me know when you're ready, I can't hold everyone off forever." She nodded and turned to survey her bags. "Go ahead and unpack. I'll pick-up a video from around the corner and you and Harry and I will stay in tonight, watching films and eating pizza."

"God, I love having gay friends," she said, and Draco laughed at her and gave her the bird before he collected his keys and headed out to the video store.

……………………..

When the music started playing, Sirius' first reaction was to flop an arm in the general direction of the alarm clock. But when smacking the damn thing several times didn't stop the damn music, he huffed and shifted about so he could look at the time. It was almost noon. "It's your cell phone," Remus' voice came from somewhere in the general vicinity of the lump that separated Sirius from his alarm clock, and he realized that several of those smacks he'd originally aimed at the alarm had probably come down on the other man's head.

He groaned, wondering who could be calling, and how he could have slept in so late, and whether Remus might be up for another go, all at once, before Remus' arm came out from beneath the covers, snatched the phone off the nightstand, disappeared under the covers, only to reappear in front of Sirius, offering the still ringing phone.

"What?" Sirius demanded into the phone.

"Turn it on," Remus advised from beneath the covers.

"What?" Sirius demanded again, having turned the phone on this time. "What?" he asked again, suddenly fully awake and sitting bolt upright in bed. "What hospital?" He asked, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Remus toss back the covers hastily and sit up. He felt the other man's supportive hand at the small of his back and tried to remain calm. "Okay, I'll be right there."

"What happened?" Remus asked, his voice concerned and worried at once.

"It's my nephew," Sirius said. "Apparently he was in the middle of a recording and just – passed out or something. Draco just called. He only just arrived at the hospital. Harry's manager called an ambulance and really didn't think to notify anyone else beyond Draco."

"Logical assumption, I guess," Remus said.

"I'm his uncle!" Sirius railed, as he tried to pull on a pair of jeans.

"But in the frenzy of the moment, it's completely reasonable to think of the spouse or the lover. You said they were living together," Remus said. He knew Sirius' temper and didn't want the poor manager to get an earful – not that he wasn't going to anyway, but still. "Is Harry alright? Do they know?"

"Draco didn't know. Apparently Harry hit his head when he fell; he's not woken yet. Shit!" he cursed as he wedged shoes onto his feet.

"Here, I'll drive you over there," Remus said.


	6. Advice to the Lovelorn: Part Two

"We need to stop meeting like this," Draco said as soon as Harry's eyes blinked open. Harry sighed and closed his eyes again, having confirmed that it was indeed his lover's fingers in his hair, and Draco was just fine.

"What happened?" Harry asked after a moment, reluctantly blinking his eyes open again.

Draco looked around the room, spotted the light switch and dimmed the lights before knotting his fingers back into black locks, and smiling into confused green eyes. "As far as anyone can tell, you collapsed from exhaustion. But since you were in the middle of a recording, no one was around to catch you and you knocked your head fairly hard on the floor."

"Is –" Harry said.

"Yes, Little Mischief is just fine," Draco confirmed. "But you, on the other hand, may or may not have a concussion."

"I feel fine," Harry offered helpfully.

"That's because they gave you aspirin. In a few hours, you'll be cursing the light, bemoaning your pretty little bruised head and I'll be hovering around your uselessly, fretting piteously and staring into your eyes to make sure your bloody pupils haven't gone wonky. Not to mention prodding you every few hours."

"But they are sending me home," Harry hedged.

"On the strict condition that you get some rest, and that you're watched like a hawk. Like I say, you might have a concussion."

"So long as I'm not here," Harry said, "I hate the damn hospital."

"I know," Draco said, and rested his head beside Harry's on the pillow, hand still entangled in the dark hair.

…………………..

Draco was kicked out of Harry's room while the Doctor did some tests to make sure Harry was fine to return home, and so Draco took the opportunity to once again reassure the crowd that had congregated outside of Harry's room.

"He'll need lots of rest, is all," Draco once again reassured Sirius, who was fretting horribly. "And Pansy's in the guest room, otherwise you know I'd let you stay," Draco said. As much as he loved Sirius, he fussed too much. Still, Draco knew how the man felt as he himself had every intention of fussing ridiculously over his lover. Still, the idea of having Sirius in the house was a scary one. Draco knew all too well that Harry would be frustrated enough with the amount of fussing he intended to do. To add Sirius to the mix would be catastrophic. At least, as things stood, Pansy would be able to keep both Draco and Harry calm. She was very good at being rational when she needed to be.

Draco wondered how 'rational' she could be after a phone call informing _her_ that her lover was enroot to hospital!

"The rest of you, thanks for coming," he tried a smile but was feeling quite tired himself suddenly.

"Okay, people. We have the results! Harry's going to be just fine!" Pansy said. "It'll be too much for him to have everyone around all at once, so might as well head-out and phone in later to check on things." It took a while, but by the time the doctor informed Draco that Harry only needed to get changed and he was free to go, the only people who were in the waiting room besides himself were Sirius and Pansy. He didn't think he'd be getting rid of Sirius any time soon, either.

…………………

"Should you be walking?" Sirius asked Harry. "Should he really be walking?" this he directed to Draco.

"I didn't break my bloody legs! I'm just tired!" Harry huffed.

"He's fine," Draco assured, but even still, he was arm-in-arm with his lover, and fully prepared to catch him should he stumble or fall.

"Please don't fuss," Harry requested futilely.

"It's all the things you've been trying to do," Pansy lectured. "Between re-recording, helping everyone out, planning my stupid welcome back party, you've just exhausted yourself."

"Thank-you, mother," Harry replied.

"We'll get you to the car," Sirius said.

"You're coming with us?" Harry asked with trepidation.

"I'm taking over your couch," Sirius replied with certainty.

"God, when will our home be ours again?" Harry asked Draco as the blond helped him into the front seat of the car. "I can bloody well sit down on my own!" Harry sniped.

"Relax, Harry," Pansy said. "There's no point fighting it, and there's no stopping it."

"Save me?" Harry requested helplessly, but Pansy only laughed heartily.

…………………..

One week after Pansy's returning to London, and two days after Harry's collapse, Draco and Harry's apartment was filled with their friends as they celebrated Pansy's return. Harry confined to the bedroom where he surveyed the party from his place on the bed, wrapped in a thick duvet, though he was not cold, and guarded by his uncle, who had not stopped fussing since he'd left the hospital, despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him outside a need for sleep.

"Can you believe they're at it again?" Draco huffed as he set his champagne glass on the nightstand and tumbled onto the bed beside his lover. From the bed, Harry could see Pansy and Blaise arguing in a corner.

"He's being a berk," Harry diagnosed the situation. "Who's the redhead on his arm?"

"Wendy," Draco scoffed. "And that's got Seamus and Dean up in arms, because she's not part of the group and shouldn't be here."

"He's doing it to get to Pansy," Harry said and sighed.

"You're stressing him!" Sirius huffed and Draco. "Stop stressing him. I'll close the doors!" Sirius directed the last bit to Harry.

"I'm twenty-four years old!" Harry huffed. "I'm perfectly fine, and I'm a grown man! I really shouldn't have to put up with this!"

"Listen to your uncle, Guppy," Draco said, and kissed Harry's cheek, before he stood up. "I'm going over there to put a stop to Blaise and Pansy's bickering."

"Send someone in here to amuse me?" Harry requested.

"Nobody that will stress him," Sirius added.

"Right, be back in a moment," Draco said.

……………………

"I'm leaving," Pansy informed Draco as he arrived at her side, having been just a moment too late to actually put a stop to the fight – Blaise had already walked off.

"This party is for you, you're not leaving it. Come to the bedroom and save Harry from his uncle," Draco suggested.

"No, I mean London," Pansy said. "This was a bad idea. I don't know what I was thinking. I had a few weeks, and I wanted a break and I wanted to see everyone."

"Everyone here knows that he's the problem," Draco said.

"I don't want them thinking that," Pansy huffed. "I don't want there to _be_ a problem to think about. This is my holiday, I shouldn't have to put up with this," she sighed.

"If that's what will make you happy," Draco offered.

"I'll be back in a moment," Pansy said as she turned towards the bathroom.

"I'll be in the bedroom with the sentinel and my poor lover," Draco said. When he turned around he noticed that Harry was watching him closely. He returned to the bedroom to update his lover on what was going on.

"He's a jealous arse," Harry said. "You should go with her," he added after a pause. "It's no good for her just to go by herself. It was her holiday and she came here," Harry said.

"I'm not leaving you when you're exhausted and on your sickbed," Draco huffed.

"I'll watch him!" Sirius promised at the same time Harry said, "I'm not on my bloody sickbed!"

"I'll go with her," Draco agreed after a moment. Harry interlocked their fingers together and smiled. "But I'll be back within a week, and I don't want to hear about you collapsing or stressing or doing anything strenuous."

"I'm confined to a bloody bed for practically the entire day," Harry huffed. "How could I possibly be stressed?

……………………..

He spotted her standing by the fireplace and tried to appear casual as he moved beside her. They'd talked, of course. Once Harry had dropped him off in front of the hotel after his monologue, Ron was unable to ignore the situation any longer. Of course, though they had reached a sort of truce after their discussion that day, Hermione hadn't come back to the house, and Ron wasn't sure what else he could do to convince her.

"You might have pursued a career on the stage," Hermione suggested. "You're very good," she added.

Ron flushed bright red at the comment. He knew she was teasing, and he cursed Draco for opening the damn party by showing the video of the night he'd spent, drunk out of his wits at the apartment. "I considered it for a while, but no one was writing scripts up to my caliber," he shot off.

"I'll bet," she quipped, and they grinned at each other. "It was a very pretty thing to say," she added, this time in complete seriousness. Ron knew she meant the part of his drunken litany when he expounded on Hermione's lovely traits and how he missed her and said he was an ass. "Not very eloquent, and you sort of lisped," she acknowledged, "but still quite pretty."

"I meant it," he said, this time turning to look at her. "That and everything else. If you come back, I'll be stronger."

"I don't want promises, Ron," Hermione said with a sigh. "Words are easy. What happened hurt, and it took away some of the trust we had between us. I want it back, I really do, but – I'm not sure what I can say," she admitted.

"What are you doing tomorrow night?" he asked, feeling suddenly reckless and exhilarated.

"Ron, no," she said, misinterpreting everything.

"Are you busy?" he questioned.

"Nothing planned," she admitted, but before she could open her mouth and try to clarify what she'd meant since she was certain he hadn't understood, he'd already grabbed her wrist and pulled her outside of the apartment. He flicked open his cell and dialed the number, all before she could even get a word out. "Hi, mum!" Ron said into the phone. He didn't stop to breathe, so clearly he'd gotten the machine – or so Hermione hoped, because Mrs. Weasley was likely boggled if Ron was actually addressing her directly. "Hermione and I wanted to invite you to dinner at our house tomorrow. You and dad, of course. But mum? Just between you and me, could you pass on to dad that Hermione and I have talked a lot about it, and we've decided to hold off on children for the time being. I'm just mentioning it because I know how much you were looking forward to more grandkids, but we both think it's best. Please don't make a big production about it. It's really nothing huge. Anyway, we'll be looking forward to the visit. Love you, mum." And Ron clicked off the phone.

Hermione was smiling at him, and at the same time, they rolled their eyes at each other. Ron proffered his arm and Hermione linked hers with his, and they headed out of the apartment. "I've finished that piece you harping about," Hermione said as they headed out towards the parking lot.

"That cello solo?" Ron asked.

"They one you've been dying to get your hands on.

"Brilliant, I'll have to try it out." And Ron carried on about the piece and his cello, and how he'd waited so patiently, and Hermione thought to herself about all the reasons she'd ended-up marrying her high-school sweetheart.

……………….

The night before Draco and Pansy were about to fly out, Draco took Harry out for a nice dinner. It was the first time that Harry had been out of the loft since he'd collapsed, and he was savoring every moment. Draco had spoken with Sirius about being perhaps a bit too paranoid, and though Sirius refused to leave Harry on his own in the loft while Draco was away, he agreed that so long as Harry rested, he wouldn't fuss.

"I was beginning to think I'd forgotten what the outside world looked like," Harry joked as he twirled the pasta noodles onto his fork. "Mm," he groaned in satisfaction at the mouthful. "I needed this," he said. "I feel human again."

"Glad to hear it," Draco said with a fond grin. It was so easy to make Harry happy. He looked around the dimly lit restaurant and nervously sipped at his wine. He'd finished his dinner already, hadn't been able to eat much of it. His hand was in his pocket beneath the tablecloth, toying with the cool metal he'd once again stashed in his pocket, and he watched Harry finish dinner with a gleam in his eye. "You realize that, of the entire group of us, you and I are the only pair who have not had a major row recently?"

"Knock on wood," Harry added, and Draco raised his eyes from where they had been surveying the tabletop, to meet Harry's eyes. "Wouldn't that be all we'd need? I mean, everyone else is spinning out of control, we'd have no safety net if we suddenly started to row," Harry said.

Draco sighed resignedly and took his hand from his pocket – knocking it twice on the wooden tabletop.

-------------------------

End Chapter Five:

-------------------------

TEASERS:

Something in the drinks

Draco on the rampage

An accidental, in the heat of the moment, somewhat expected if a little cliché kind of ending (that isn't actually the ending of the fic, mind)


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **_The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Six:** E is for Ecstasyi

---------------------------

She stared with wide-eyes at the small, dark green box that sat so innocently on her coffee table, the lid raised to reveal the contents that sat on a bed of velvet. She felt somewhat silly to admit that the sight of the delicately cut platinum ring sitting in the box made her chest ache, and her eyes water. "How long?" she managed to ask, covering her emotions by taking a sip of her tea.

"Gawd," Draco sighed, picking up the box, looking at it fondly for a moment before closing it and tucking it into a pocket. "Going on four months," he admitted.

"And you haven't found the right moment?" Pansy asked with a hint of mirth.

"There were plenty of opportunities – which were abruptly cut-short by someone, or several someones, seeking either my help or his. Sometimes both of us."

"That seems a bit like an excuse. You could easily make the time, Draco," Pansy said.

"When? He's got to re-tape, so I can't exactly arrange for us to get out of London long enough for me to ask him. That severely limits the opportunities."

"Take him out to dinner," she suggested.

"Which I did just before I left to come here," Draco said. "And it was going fine, until I turned to conversation towards relationships, and how everyone else's relationship seemed to be falling apart."

"Why on earth would you discuss that over a dinner when you intended to propose to him?" Pansy asked, baffled.

"I just thought I could say something like: 'Well, we seem to be going strong amidst all this chaos, want to make it official?'"

"Men," she huffed, looking at him fondly. "Clearly it didn't go as planned, or that would be on his finger. What could have ruined such a romantic evening?"

"He laughed when I mentioned how everyone was having relationship troubles, and pointed out that we weren't. He told me to knock on wood," Draco sighed. "So I did."

"That's cowardice," Pansy pointed out. "Though proposing before you left would have been bad form."

"I'm not doubting us," Draco defended. "I've never doubted us. But he collapsed from exhaustion this week!" Draco snapped. "And I have no idea how he would react to me asking to marry him. He could be happy. He could be scared. I don't know. And the point is, if he reacts in any way other than to be completely ecstatic, at this moment, he doesn't have anyone to turn to who he can talk with about it. To sort it out in his head. Sometimes he needs to do that, you know? But with what everyone is going through, no one would be available for that! Hermione and Ron are just getting back together. Blaise is being a total prat, and I _don't_ want him giving relationship advice to my lover. Ginny's in the middle of rehearsals for the opera. Dean and Seamus are involved in their work as well. Neville never offers any clear advice other than to 'follow you heart'. And Sirius is in the middle of setting things up for the upcoming school year. My own mother, even, who I imagine Harry might turn to if he had no one else, is on her 'second honeymoon' with Severus."

"That's amazingly sweet, that you're taking all of this into consideration," Pansy said. "But also really stupid."

"What do you mean?"

"All you can do is ask, Draco. The decision is Harry's, and you've got to trust that he can make it on his own. You and I both know he's more opinionated than any of us, even if he is quiet. You're doing him a disservice, not being upfront. And if you're waiting for a perfectly romantic moment, then stop it. You know Harry better than that. You know that just you asking him for forever will be enough to make kneeling in a pile of mud in the middle of a hail storm surrounded by grazing cattle romantic."

"That is romantic, sort of," Draco said. "If I were in a very expensive suit."

"You're sort of right," Pansy said as she thought on it. "Showing him that you love him enough to brave the elements, to sacrifice even your wealth and appearance, since regardless of his answer, you'd be walking home covered in mud – and god knows what else, since your in a field of grazing cattle."

"Well, at this rate, that's going to be the only way I can get him alone long enough to ask!" Draco huffed, returning to the conversation.

"You're just being overdramatic," Pansy counseled.

"It doesn't feel that way," Draco pouted.

"It never does," she said with a long-suffering shake of her head, and then shrieked as Draco tossed a pillow at her.

……………………..

Sirius, as promised, knocked on the door at precisely seven o'clock in the evening, which was a good thing because if he'd come any earlier, Harry would not have opened the door. Sirius had fussed over him terribly over his exhaustion, and it had only gotten worse when Draco had left, because he was not only the only one in the apartment to fuss, but also because Draco had been the one to distract Sirius and garner a few hours of peace for them. Harry had no such luck convincing his uncle that he would not expire if Sirius went out to a pub, or took Remus somewhere, or just left him in peace.

Harry had been very good, and very patient and incredibly tolerant of his uncle's behavior. He understood that a part of it was because Sirius and Harry did not actually spend much time together anymore like they had done, and his uncle missed him. Another part was that, for Sirius, Harry was all that remained of family, and Sirius was the only real family that Harry had, and they clung to each other like survivors of a shipwreck. Harry could remember a time, when he was just fourteen that he had fussed in a similar fashion over his uncle, when Sirius had come down with a rather fierce bout of bronchitis.

This time, however, there really wasn't anything to be worried about. Harry had more than enough rest under Sirius' watchful eye, and he absolutely refused to stay another unneeded day in bed. It had, rather to Harry's frustration, taken his revolt against his uncle's rule of his apartment, and subsequent tossing of Sirius out of said apartment on his ear that had, in the end, convinced Sirius that his nephew was in fact just fine. So, three days after Draco's departure, Harry had their home to himself again.

"You're all set, then?" Harry asked as he settled into the chair opposite Sirius.

"Just stopping by for the traditional check-in," Sirius replied, and they grinned. Since Harry had moved out of Black Manor house, Sirius had taken to dropping by for a visit before returning to Hogwarts. Sometimes, with Harry's touring schedule at the beginning, Sirius had been required to hop a flight to see Harry, but he always did it. When Harry had become more established and able to adjust his schedule as he pleased, he always made sure to be in London at the time Sirius would be heading back.

"Have you settled things with Remus? Is he going to visit?" Harry asked.

"Of course we're still going to see each other," Sirius answered with such an affronted look on his face that Harry grinned broadly. "Why are you giving me that impish grin?" Sirius asked cautiously.

"Do you know how happy it makes me to finally see you happy and in love? I was about to take-up matchmaking on your behalf. I mean, you go out, but you never meet the _right sort_ to settle down with," Harry answered.

"I'm not that bad. You remember John," Sirius replied.

"It was precisely _because_ I remembered John that I was going to set you up myself. Honestly, the man looked and acted, as if you'd scraped him out of the corner of a seedy pub, and need I remind you of that rather pungent odor that followed him everywhere?" and Harry wrinkled his nose at the memory.

"Oh yes," Sirius replied with a laugh. "It was his socks, he believed that they were his lucky socks and refused to wash them lest the 'luck' in them wash out. Unfortunately, whenever I was around, he always seemed to have his fingers crossed, I think I just got used to it after a while. And it was when I realized I was used to the smell that I left him," Sirius joked. It had actually been more complicated, and John hadn't been all that smelly, but he definitely had not been right for Harry's uncle. "On to a nicer topic," Sirius said, his voice serious. "Have you got your tour schedule yet?"

"Yeah, Finn and I settled it just today," Harry said.

"You sound disappointed."

"Still no time for a concert in Venice," Harry sighed. "I've always wanted to go. I used to imagine Draco and I might go together, but I guess I didn't foresee our busy schedules back in my high school daydreams," he said and laughed. "So I've been trying for ages to wrangle Finn to set-up a tour that stops in Venice, but with the size of my following in other places, well, it didn't make sense. Not that many people in Venice as in New York, who buy my cd's and tickets to my concerts."

"You'll get there, Guppy," Sirius said with a fond smile.

"I have a secret weapon," Harry said as he nodded in agreement to his uncle's statement. "I'm playing around with a few of Vivaldi's pieces. If I do an album like that, then it would only make sense for the tour to take us through Venice. Either that, or I'm going to run away there. The last, I'm afraid, seems more likely."

"I'll make sure to look there if ever your disappear for a suspicious length of time," Sirius said dryly.

……………………….

It was passed eleven o'clock at night, and Harry paced the apartment once more. He felt vaguely lost, pacing his home with no real purpose. All he knew was that he could not sleep – the bed felt too large with only himself in it. The absolute quiet of the apartment was making him restless, and he'd forgotten that neither Draco nor Sirius would be joining him for dinner, and had to wrap up the extra food he'd cooked before he'd remembered.

All in all, it was the usual pattern he fell into when Draco went on tour.

With a sigh, he crossed by the coffee table where Komm Susser Tod lay in her case, enshrouded by crushed blue velvet that had been pulled back. He traced her dark wood idly as he passed, plucked a string and when the bright sound echoed through the apartment, he paced back to her side. Once more he reached out and plucked a string, sighing as she sang-out once more.

He picked her up delicately and unsnapped his bow from where it rested in the case. Settling her into position, Harry suddenly felt grounded once more. He raised his bow and immediately a song came to mind, and he began it, embellishing segments and losing himself in the wonderful echo Susser made as the notes drifted out to fill the silence.

He began pianissimo, the beginning of a thought – of a feeling.ii A tender yearning for something. Like a brush of fingertips against warm flesh – it left him feeling full and heady, but aching at the same time. It broke him apart as it healed him, drowned him in blissful heat as it crashed him against cool rocks – it made him soar.

As Harry played, his body leaning into the music, lost in the flood of thought. Suddenly he was a child, back in his mother's arms as she rocked him to sleep, smiling that way she always did when she held him – as if he made her so very happy when all he was doing was drifting to sleep in her embrace.

He was seven, and his father picked him up from the couch where he was dozing, and carried him up the stairs and tucked him into bed.

He was ten, and his mother smiled widely even as she cried, after he had completed his solo performance of the song she had played so often with him.

He was sixteen, and Sirius brushed the hair from his brow, looking so very proud of him even if he was a wreck after having spent the entire night crying.

He was seventeen, and Draco touched his cheek gently, chuffed softly, and pulled Harry to his chest, laughing quietly at Harry's ranting.

He was twenty-four, and he ached; full to capacity with such a sense of awe and happiness, of miserable joy because everything, even that pain, had been so perfect, simply because it brought him to this moment. This exact moment when he knew that he was loved in so many ways by so many people. It was an overwhelming sensation, but wonderful to experience.

He let the song draw to its conclusion and heaved a heady sigh, feeling suddenly very calm. This empty apartment wasn't anything he hadn't endured before. He stretched his neck out for a moment before resettling Susser into position and let his mind wander as he created new songs as the notes came to him. Each song transforming seamlessly into a new one as it came to him, and he played until, finally, sleep didn't seem so impossible.

…………………..

The low murmur of voices echoed through the dimly lit theatre and Harry squeezed his hand once, tightly, around Blaise's wrist to offer support. It was the opening night of Blaise's play, 'The Carnival', and even if the man was being a bit of an ass to Pansy, Harry wouldn't leave his friend alone on such a huge night. Together with Dean and Seamus, they occupied one of the boxes to the right of the stage.

"Don't do that during the performance," Blaise said to Harry, trying to sound calm and aloof, but Harry knew his friend was just shy of screaming his excitement to the hall and bouncing in his seat like a little child while clapping his hands together.

"I have to become the physical embodiment of your excitement or else you'll spontaneously combust," Harry explained plainly, and Blaise grinned once, broadly, and then squeezed Harry's wrist.

"God, it's a good thing Angela isn't here," Blaise murmured quietly. "She'd probably wonder if I were gay."

"Nothing wrong with that," Seamus interrupted. "Right Harry?"

"I'm quite enjoying it," Harry said with a smirk, and Blaise simply shook his head and ruffled his friend's hair.

"Quiet you idiots, it's starting," Dean hissed as the lights dimmed.

"Psst," Seamus murmured five minutes into the production. "Are you understanding any of this?"

"Shut up," Blaise whispered back.

"It's just beginning, we're not supposed to have it all figured out," Dean answered in a whisper.

"Psst," Seamus said twenty minutes later. "Shall we go to the pub after the show, to celebrate?"

"I'm never inviting you to one of my plays again, you lush," Blaise answered, keeping his voice low.

"Of course we're going out after this," Harry replied. "Now hush."

"Psst," Seamus said, five minutes before intermission, and Blaise hopped his chair back and brought it down on Seamus' shoe which prompted the Irish man to utter a strangled moan and he didn't make another sound until the curtain closed on the final scene; not even during the intermission.

……………….

Draco dropped his luggage by the couch and looked around the apartment for any sign of where Harry might be. Seeing the note pinned to the refrigerator by one of the amusing magnets Harry had grown attached to, Draco made his way to the kitchen and reviewed the note. A glance at his watch revealed that he was in time to meet Harry and the others as they celebrated Blaise's opening night.

Leaving the bags where he had deposited them, Draco entered the bedroom in search of suitable attire. He settled on black pants and a soft blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. A bit of gel and he'd managed to tousle his hair in that way that Harry particularly liked, and then Draco was grabbing his keys and heading back out of the apartment, intent on tracking down his errant lover and their friends.

……………….

The music was loud and the lighting dim. Every few minutes, Harry's face was lit-up orange, then purple, then blue – the strobes and spots scanning the crowds and highlighting every throbbing, moving, twisting body in the mass of bodies that filled the club. Harry had been dancing for half an hour when he rejoined Blaise at the bar. He was pleasantly buzzed and hummed along with the song that was playing.

"We've lost people," Harry noticed after a moment.

"No we haven't," Blaise assured. "Seamus has succumbed to the allure of a young blonde by the name of Rosie, and Dean went out dancing not long after you disappeared."

"You should be dancing, too," Harry said. "You have to celebrate!"

Blaise was about to open his mouth and admit that he really didn't at all feel like celebrating when Harry was distracted by a long around curling about his upper body. For a fleeting moment, Harry thought that Draco had finally arrived at the club. He'd left a note for his lover, not sure when Draco's plane would get in but unable to stay and wait for him because he couldn't miss opening night. It didn't take more than a split second for Harry to realize that the thick, muscled arm that was in the middle of pulling him backwards against a broad and muscled chest did not belong to Draco at all.

"Come dance with me, Precious," the stranger purred in Harry's ear.

'Allure', which was the club they were at, was not a gay club but it was pretty open-minded and they had found that Harry and Draco could dance together comfortably without having to worry about fights breaking out. It was part of the reason they frequented it, the patrons cared as much about who was with whom as they themselves did – which was not at all.

"No thanks," Harry said, and took a sip of the martini the bartender had just set before him.

"You know you want to. I saw you dancing with that guy," the man insisted. Which was true. Harry had been dancing with Dean earlier, but after Dean had retreated to the bar for a break, Harry had been dancing with another man who had asked him. He was always fairly cautious of his dance partners as Harry was still shy around strangers, especially when dancing – throwback from his experience with his roommate when he had still been in school. Still, over the years of being with Draco and going out with his friends, Harry had felt more comfortable with dancing in public, and with strangers. He didn't dance the same way with the strangers as he did with Draco, but it was always more fun to dance with another person than by yourself, and Harry never turned down an offer so long as the person offering didn't seem threatening – like the man who had an arm wrapped about him.

"He's not interested," Blaise interrupted, noticing his friend's discomfort.

"What's it to you?" the man snapped.

"He's with me," Blaise shot back, not pausing a moment.

"Yeah, fucking, right," the man retorted.

Before Harry could blink, Blaise had grabbed him by the front of the shirt and jerked him forward. Harry had enough time to hold his drink out to the side before he slammed against Blaise's chest, and before he could say a word, Blaise's lips crashed down on his own.

Harry was completely dazed. He'd really only ever really kissed Draco before, and their kisses weren't anything like this. It was also even more bizarre because, not only was Blaise straight (though he was quite comfortable with his sexuality, and sometimes Harry wondered if he wasn't a little bit bi), he was also like an older brother to Harry. Right now, he was just the slightest bit uncomfortable, though he knew what his friend was doing and appreciated it greatly.

When they broke apart, Harry was flushed and felt disconcerted and Blaise was trying to hide his amusement, though it shined in his eyes, and the stranger was smirking at Harry and simply shrugged and walked off – turning around once to flash Harry a wink which sent shivers down his spine.

"Not bad," Blaise teased. "But I think I prefer the ladies."

"That was just weird," Harry confirmed. Blaise laughed and ruffled the gelled black locks. They had all changed to go out, and Harry had styled his hair with a bit of gel, spiking it up slightly. Blaise noticed Harry shiver and frowned.

"Are you okay?" Blaise asked.

"Just a flashback," Harry admitted, trying to sound casual. He reached out and tossed back the rest of his martini in one gulp before hailing for another.

"Take it easy," Blaise said, and rubbed the other man's back. "Should we go out for a bit?"

"No," Harry insisted as he accepted the new martini glass from the bartender and took a long sip. "It's fine. But you're coming dancing with me," Harry insisted, changing the topic. Blaise rolled his eyes but stuck close to Harry's side. Every so often, something happened that would bring back memories of Tom Riddle, and Blaise had been friends with Harry long enough to know that, no matter how much he tried, Harry wasn't as fine as he was trying to pretend. Blaise had no intention of leaving his friend's side.

It was because of this silent pact with himself that Blaise followed when Harry grabbed his wrist and yanked him out onto the dance floor. They found Seamus surrounded by several women and joined them, both Harry and Blaise picking a partner and settling into the beat.

Three songs later, Blaise frowned as he watched Harry lose track of the beat and raise a hand to his head. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Harry laughed shortly and tossed his back-and-forth, like a dog shaking off water. "Nothing," he said. "Just a bit dizzy." When Blaise continued to look at him closely, Harry wrapped his arms around his dance partner, who nearly swooned and tilted her head into the dark-haired man's neck. "I'm fine," Harry insisted.

…………………..

**explicit content begins**

…………………..

Stepping into 'Allure' was like stepping into another world. Draco paused on the top step and scanned the mass of gyrating bodies looking for any sign of his friend. He caught sight of Blaise and Dean by the bar and immediately headed over. "Gentlemen!" Draco greeted as he came upon them.

"Draco!" Dean said, with more than a little relief, and Blaise turned his head away.

Struck by their reactions, Draco looked around. "What's wrong?" And then, with more than a trace of worry, "Where's Harry?"

"Draco …" Blaise said, and then sighed and shook his head. "I'm keeping an eye on him," he said instead. "Really."

"Where is he?" Draco said again, worry rising him at the confirmation of his fear. Blaise jerked his head to the right and Draco, following the gesture, caught sight of a crowd that had congregated around the bar. Near a pole that connected the bar to the ceiling, Draco saw pale hands reaching heavenward, just a brief glimpse of slender fingers above the heads of the people.

Wondering what was happening, Draco pushed his way through the crowd until he stood near the bar, staring open-mouthed at the vision that was moving on the bar top. It was perhaps more than fitting that the song blasting over the speakers in the club was Air's 'Sexy Boy' because that was exactly what Harry was.

Clad in tight, hip-hugging red pants and a white sleeveless-T with a red painted slash across the chest, hair gelled to stick-up, glasses off, and thick bracelet around his right wrist, Harry was the embodiment of sex. He stood on the bar and was dancing to the music. The dance, reminiscent of the one Draco had stumbled upon when he had come home just recently, was slow and very hot.

Harry's back was pressed against the pole; his hips were pumping and his arms were moving, skimming his body lightly. His head was thrown back, lips parted, eyes closed, and his long pale neck was exposed. Slowly, Harry's head lolled towards the crowd and his eyes slit open, meeting Draco's directly, and that was when Draco knew what was wrong; knew what had loosed his shy lover to the point where he was dancing as he was, in front of the crowd. Harry was on drugs – his pupils made that more than cleariii.

It took a moment for Draco to regain control of the snarl of emotions that rose in him. Harry had never done drugs, and he could think of no reason why his lover might try now. Added to his concern was anger at his friends who were supposed to be looking after their friend. Right now, what was important was coaxing Harry out of the club, into the car, and getting him home, or if he needed, to the hospital.

Taking a step forward, Draco watched as Harry turned to face the pole, gripped it with one hand and slowly bent backward so that his legs which were on either side of the pole, and his right hand which gripped it, were the only thing holding him up. From this new position, Harry's face was quite close to Draco's, though upside down, and when the green eyes blinked open once more, Draco was relieved when Harry spotted him and grinned broadly. "Draco," he greeted excitedly; and then Harry pulled himself up, and spun around to face Draco. He stepped onto a stool by the bar, and then onto the ground, and then Draco's own body became the pole Harry had been dancing with before. It was quite difficult, Draco found, to be rational when one's lover was thrusting against you, purring hot breath into your ear, with long fingers rubbing against your chest. Try as Draco might, there were a few moments when he completely forgot what was wrong with the entire situation.

"Shh," Draco soothed, when Harry's thrusts picked up and he whimpered in Draco's ear. "We should head home."

"Mm'kay," Harry answered, and licked a path from the open throat of Draco's shirt up to his chin, then to the corner of Draco's lips where he finally brought their mouths together. "I want fuck youiv," Harry whispered, and grinned quite broadly. Fighting the shiver that raced through him as well as the impulse to drag Harry to the bathroom and fuck right there, Draco was brought out of his thoughts when, quite suddenly, Harry dipped himself backward, relying entirely on Draco's hands which were wrapped about his waist to support him.

"I feel incredible," Harry informed him when Draco had managed to right his lover.

"We're going home," Draco said, and proceeded to manoeuvre Harry towards the entrance of the club. He had no intention of waiting for the others, or informing them of his intentions of taking his lover home, but before he reached the door, Blaise, Seamus and Dean had joined him and began to help him.

Dean drove Draco's car so that Draco could sit in the back with Blaise and keep an eye on Harry. The drive to the apartment was quiet and tense, interrupted only by Harry who was busy looking at a world he had apparently never seen before – fascinated by everything and anything, including the streetlights that flashed by them. Everyone else sat in tense silence, concerned for their friend, guilty that they hadn't kept better track of him, and worried about the inevitable lecture Draco would give them.

It took the four of them to wrangle Harry into the elevator, and by then, they had decided to just stay at the apartment in case they were needed during the night. Blaise, especially, was feeling responsible for what had happened to Harry. He was kicking himself mentally for not keeping a closer eye on his friend, especially during that encounter with the man who had tried to get Harry to dance. Running over the evening in his mind, the only possible time when Harry could have ingested drugs was if the man had put them in Harry's drink when Blaise had kissed him.

"I'll get him some water," Dean said, noticing the look Draco was flashing Blaise. "Come on, Harry," Dean called, tugging on Harry's arm. Harry complied and the two, along with Seamus, disappeared into the kitchen.

"How did this happen?" Draco asked, his tone tight but soft.

"Someone must have slipped it in his drink," Blaise said. "Someone _did_ slip it in his drink."

"Harry always watches his drink. It never leaves his sight," Draco said. "He knows better than this."

"Well – there was this guy who was bothering him. He wouldn't leave him alone," Blaise explained. "I had to tell him Harry was with me." When Draco showed no anger at this, Blaise continued. "He still wouldn't leave, so I kissed Harry. It wasn't anything serious, Draco."

"And Harry had a drink in his hand?" Draco asked, filling in the gap. "And he moved it out of the way while you … kissed. – That would certainly explain how the drugs got in."

"Draco –"

"I don't care that you kissed him. Fuck, Blaise, I'm not idiot enough to think that either you or Harry would do something like that, either to me or to each other. But you were supposed to be –"

"Draco?" Harry called softly, and as Draco turned he saw Harry standing by the open doorway to their bedroom. Shelving the conversation with Blaise, Draco walked over to his lover, stopping when they were a few steps apart. "Draco," Harry said again, a soft hiss.

And just like that, a spell came down on them and caught Draco in its web. Harry reached out and caught the corner of Draco's sleeve, smiling faintly and tugging Draco closer to his body. Draco could feel the heat rising from Harry's body; it washed over him as he pressed close, and Draco forgot everything. Forgot that Harry was drunk and high, forgot that three of their friends were in the same room, forgot his fear, his anger, his concern, forgot everything as his lips came down on Harry's.

They kissed long enough for the world to fade around them -- long enough for Draco to forget that anything but Harry existed -- and then Harry stepped back, a quirk to his lips, and slowly pulled the shirt up his body, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. He stepped forward again, reaching for Draco's hand and bringing his lover's fingers to his lips. Sensation was heightened somehow, and the simple feel of the suction around his finger was driving Draco mad. Until Harry removed the finger and lowered Draco's hand until it pressed against his heart. Harry kept his hand around Draco's wrist and began stepping backward, their eyes locked on each other as Draco followed.

--section omitted due to explicit content—

END PART A

(If you would like to read the full chapter as it was intended to be viewed, please visit my website, the address of which is available by checking my profile at this site. Hope you enjoyed)

* * *

i Warning: minor drug use occurs in this chapter. Also, I would like to make it clear that, as someone who has never done drugs, I have no idea what the effects of being high or whatever are like, nor whether it is plausible for certain drugs to be mixed into certain drinks. Yeah, I'm an idiot, so sue me, but don't flame me because I'm trying, I really am, but I'm not going to go out and get high or whatever just so I can write a plausible scene – sorry to disappoint. -

ii I imagine Harry playing Rachmaninov's 'Vocalise' in this section.

iii Yeah, yeah, lighting in the club would make reading Harry's pupils difficult/impossible – go with it.

iv Though I don't write it into the fic, it is my belief that Harry is not always bottoming for Draco, I just write him that way because I like bottomHarry – he's hot that way, but that's a personal pref. But you can read into it as you like – I purposely wrote the fic to accommodate that so go right ahead. Just a reminder that I in no way am presenting every little aspect of their lives, in any regard. Just like the prequel, I would remind you that sometimes I'm not going to tie all the loose ends-up, I think a little ambiguity is good for the imagination! And hey, that's just life.


	8. E is for Ecstasy P2

**Title: **_The Art and Practice of Absolute Pitch_

**Author: **Gold-Snitcher

**Chapter Six:** E is for Ecstasyi

------------

When Harry opened his eyes he was lying on the floor of the bathroom, his body curled around the toilette and his head pillowed on his arm with absolutely no recollection as to how he had gotten there, only a vague indignation that Draco had not brought him into the bedroom which was overwhelmed a moment later when an attempt to move distracted him with a pounding head and aching body, and Harry directed his attention to a general feeling of loathing for the entire world for making him feel like this.

He stayed there for a quarter of an hour, before he managed to find the will to drag himself up, brush his teeth (his mouth tasted foul), wash his face (in an attempt to wake up) and unlock the bathroom door (which explained why he had spent a portion of the night on the floor, if he had locked Draco out of the room). As he stepped into the bedroom, Harry could hear his lover's voice speaking low in the other room, but despite the hushed tones, it was easy for Harry to pick-out the angry tone. Harry wondered who Draco was berating and why. He had only vague memories of the night before, and nothing solid enough to explain what had his lover up in arms.

"Morning," Blaise greeted, interrupting Draco mid-rant, and speaking just a little too loudly for Harry's comfort. Harry hovered in the doorway for a moment, blearily rubbing at one eye, wondering why the world was blurry before he realized he had not bothered to pick-up his glasses from the nightstand as he had passed, and obviously had not put in his contacts. He decided it didn't matter, Harry didn't want to see the world at that moment anyway.

He managed two half-hearted steps into the main room before Draco had swooped down on him, popped a ginger root pill into his palm and stuffed a glass of water into the other, and then looked at him in that way that reminded Harry of Molly Weasley, Ron's mother, or even Sirius at times; he didn't say anything, though, he was far too happy to have something to ease his roiling stomach. "How are you feeling?" Seamus asked from where he sat at the kitchen table, and his question earned him a dark glare.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, which, upon reflection, might have been a bit rude, but he was suffering a bad hangover, worse than he normally had, and it wasn't often that Seamus, Dean and Blaise all stayed over.

"Erm," Seamus answered intelligently.

"You don't remember?" Dean asked with a frown.

"God, do you have a fever? Do you know the day?" Draco asked as he pressed his palm to Harry's forehead, and then turned to look at Blaise. "Maybe we should take him to the hospital."

"What?" Harry asked. "I'm fine," he said. "God, shut up. Everyone stop talking so fast." He rubbed at his head, and went willingly into Draco's arms when the blond pulled him close to his chest.

"Sorry," Draco whispered sweetly into his ear. "I'm just worried, is all. Are you sure you're all right? We weren't sure if the drugs would have ill-effects on your system."

Harry let that sink-in for a moment. "The what?"

"Someone put something in your drink last night, don't you remember?" Seamus asked.

"Clearly not," Harry muttered. "What was it? Am I okay?" he questioned.

"Shh," Draco soothed, rubbing circles into his back. "You should be fine. We were just worrying."

"Here," Dean said, and held out a piece of toast, freshly plucked from the toaster and buttered. The sight of it made Harry's stomach roil, but years of having Ron or Blaise, and Draco insisting food in the stomach would ease his queasiness had taught him to at least manage a nibble; just as years of dealing with Harry's hangovers had taught his friends that he only ever would consider a piece of toast and nothing more, no matter how they urged him to eat.

"I need to sit down," Harry said, and looked at Draco oddly as his lover fussed and manoeuvred him to the couch, and then proceeded to fluff pillows and attempt to shift Harry into a lying position. "What are you doing?" Harry inquired, when Draco seemed to be looking for something else he could do for Harry.

"I called Finn, told him you wouldn't be in today or tomorrow," Draco said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and then, after glancing around the room, removing his hands from his pockets, sitting down beside Harry and moving his hands to rest on Harry's leg.

"Why not tomorrow? I should be fine by then." He sipped at the glass of water, and managed an amused smile when Blaise came over and refilled his mug, and set a plate of toast on the coffee table before him.

"You have to take it easy, Harry," Draco said, in such a tone that Harry felt his patience run thing. Hadn't he got through all of this already?

Apparently Blaise had read his mind before he cleared his throat, and gestured towards the door when he caught their attention. "We'll head out, now. Give a call if you need us," Blaise said, and smiled a bit tensely.

"I'll talk with you later," Draco said, and Harry was surprised at the tone of his lover's voice. Still, he waved as his friends shuffled out, and rested his head on Draco's shoulder, wanting to crawl into a nice dark hole and never ever emerge again.

"What did they do?" he managed to ask, though he wasn't quite interested in the answer. Still, Harry hated turmoil within his circle of friends, and hated it even more when Draco was involved in the turmoil; he enjoyed having his lover as a dependable and steady ally in whatever dramas happened in their circle.

"It's they're fault that bastard even had a chance to drug you," Draco snarled.

"Fuck off, Draco," Harry huffed, amused by his lover's antics and half-annoyed. "They're not my babysitters, I certainly don't need any."

"I know that," Draco answered honestly and kissed the top of Harry's hair, wrapping his arms a little tighter around his lover. "But friends watch out for each other."

"But they couldn't have stopped it," Harry said, a fleeting memory of Blaise's lips pressed to his own, and the looming man breathing down his neck, pressing close behind him. Harry shivered and fought the urge to shift out of Draco's embrace. He was used to dealing with these things, remnants of his high school days when he really had been a victim, but not this time. Sure, the man had slipped something in his drink, but Harry's friends had been there, had watched him, even if they couldn't do anything about the blood racing through his body. And in the end, they had brought him home, and they had stayed with him. Harry didn't think there was anything more he could have asked for from them, and he told Draco as much.

"I'm sorry," Draco said. "I just want someone to blame, because I hate feeling like you're in trouble and there's nothing I can do for you."

Harry lifted his head from where he had burrowed into the blonde's soft sweater and smiled. "You've gotten quite good at this sharing thing," he said, and kissed Draco's nose. Draco sighed and petted Harry's hair, and Harry fell asleep.

…………………………….

It would have been one thing if life after the incident at the club had continued exactly as it had before; but they didn't. Harry could understand the incident would make his friends, and particularly his lover, a little more aware of him and protective. Harry would admit that even still, one week after the drugging at the club, he still had flashbacks to another time when someone had made unwanted attempts on him. He forced himself to go out with friends in crowded places though his instinct was insisting he would be happier hiding at the flat. So he could understand that his friends, who knew what had happened to him before, and how this incident might affect him, would be a bit more protective of him. He could not, however, make excuses for Draco's behaviour.

Originally, he had thought it was very considerate of his lover to look after him the way he was. Draco would drive him to and from work, they were practically inseparable unless Harry was at the studio, and sometimes Draco would pop in and wait while Harry taped. Harry soon realized, however, that Draco was going a bit far. When Harry decided to go out with Finn and some of the recording team, Draco had tried to dissuade Harry from going, and then he had tried to go along with Harry even though he had a prior arrangement with Hermione. As it was, he had ended-up dragging Hermione to the pub Harry and his friends had gone to, and spent the evening glaring daggers at anyone who dared to breath near Harry let alone look at him, with an arm firmly encircling Harry's shoulders. He watched Harry like a hawk, no matter what he was doing, and quizzed him whereabouts and plans when Harry managed to slip away from him.

"I love the man dearly, but he's got to cope with the fact that things happen and you can't stop it, and can't prevent it – you just have to deal with it," Harry finished and Finn shook his head.

"It sounds like he's just worried about you. But you're right, he's taking it to an extreme. Have you spoken with him about it at all?" Finn asked.

"He insists he's not doing anything. I tried to tell him that phone calls every hour to make certain I'm still alive and unharmed are excessive, but he just started making up ridiculous excuses about why he was calling. I'm surprised he hasn't rung to ask where I'd moved the piano!"

"Did you do some redecorating? Where did you move that lovely piano to?"

"I haven' moved it, but that's how ridiculous some of his excuses are. And I know I have to sit down with him and really talk it otut, but god, can't it wait? I'm busy enough with this stupid re-recording and dealing with my own reactions to what happened. I really don't have it in me to talk to my raving boyfriend about the psychotic tendencies he's developed of late." Harry's cell rang and, with a sigh, he answered it. "Hello? Oh, hi Draco – no I'm just talking with Finn. We're on break but we should be heading back in in just a moment. – What? No, I don't know where your mother's suede gloves are, has she misplaced them? – Oh, yes I can imagine that she might need them if she – no, I'm fine. Why, do I sound off? – Oh, no the recording is going well so far. – I love you too, but listen; I've got to head back. – I know. Thanks, and I'll meet you at seven." Harry hung up his phone and stared at it.

"I suggest you find it in yourself to address this sooner rather than later, it's only going to get worse if you leave it unchecked," Finn said, throwing an arm about Harry's shoulders. Harry groaned and buried his head against the soft fabric of Finn's shirt causing Finn to let out a bark of laughter.

…………………………….

As it turned out, Harry made several attempts to speak with his lover, and each time they agreed to do something a little differently, and while Draco would uphold his part of the bargain, it didn't put a stop to his behaviour completely, and Harry would again had to redress the situation, and again a new tactic was decided on, which still wouldn't solve the problem of Draco's ridiculous fussing. And it just kept on that way until Harry felt as if he had only one option left.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked worriedly as he went into the bedroom to find Harry stuffing some clothes and his wash-kit into a backpack. Harry's movements were jerky, and Draco could plainly tell his lover was holding back tears.

"I can't do this," Harry said in a tone that sounded so desperate and defeated that it broke Draco's heart into pieces. "I can't. I'm so sorry," and then he stopped, rubbed his eyes and shook his head emphatically. "Things don't work like this. They can't possibly work like this. I'm not a child, though god knows I've put up with everyone treating me like their younger brother, or Sirius fussing. But that was fine, you know?" He'd stopped shoving things into his bag and zipped it up roughly, and Draco's mind was desperately running over possible responses to keep his lover with him. "It was fine, because with the others, there was always this, I don't know – this understanding that they could worry about me but in the end, I could take care of myself. And Sirius – I made excuses for Sirius because I'm all he has left and I know how hard that is for him, because it's the same for me. We're the only real blood ties for each other, and I catch myself sometimes trying to hold on to him. But even with him – I tossed him out of the apartment. I tossed him out because – because I'm _not_ a child, and I don't need to be treated that way. I thought you'd understood that. Back when – back when things were beginning between us, I thought you understood that I wasn't … broken … after what had happened, that I was still all right." Harry's voice had cracked as he spoke the last sentence, and Draco wanted so badly to go to him, wanted so badly to hold his lover close because he knew that what had happened back then still hurt Harry, even if he had survived it all.

"Harry," Draco said, because as much as he wanted to, he couldn't go to his lover.

Harry wasn't going to listen to him, though. Instead, Harry turned and faced Draco directly, a determined look in his eyes. "Tell me, Draco. Tell me that you understand that. Tell me that you trust me to look after myself and make my own decisions and live my own life. Tell me –" his voice hitched a moment. "Tell me anything," Harry finished in an almost whisper.

Draco was frozen. He wanted to yell out that of _course_ he knew Harry could look after himself. He wanted to say that he was sorry, because he was. Wanted to admit he'd acted irrationally; but all of that stuck in his throat, choked by fear and desperation. Fear, because he'd never realized the extent to which Harry had integrated himself in his life before. Fear because, after everything they'd been through, Draco was only now realizing just how much Harry meant to him, how everything in his world _was _Harry; and if that was ever taken away … Draco had lasted so many years with his lover because they'd always maintained a casual balance. He'd always known they'd loved each other deeply, but it was easy to think that when things were going well. They're lives had run so smoothly, together and apart, they'd managed to make it all work so seamlessly, that Draco had never had to contemplate the other possibilities. But the car accident, and Harry's collapse, and then the incident at the club – it all came down on him, how very much Harry meant, and Draco didn't want to let that go. He was _desperate_ not to let Harry go.

But his very silence was all it took.

Harry swallowed thickly and turned to the bed. He shouldered his backpack and didn't meet Draco's eyes again as he left their apartment.

………………………

It was raining outside. Thick droplets of rain that had soaked through his coat within moments of his exiting the building, but Harry didn't care. He thought he might be crying, but he wasn't sure. He felt very cold, and tugged his coat tighter around himself. He'd forgotten Susser and Little Mischief in the apartment – he'd been too preoccupied to think to take them, and now he couldn't stand the thought of turning back to get them.

He kept walking. He'd left his keys in the apartment, but he didn't feel like driving. The rain, however cold, felt good against his heated skin; fitted his mood. He kept wishing it would cleanse him of his hurt and anger and the hopeless, stabbing, futile, agonizing, blistering bitch of a thing called 'love' that had brought him to this point. Because he loved Draco, and that was the difficulty now. Because he wanted so badly to go back and forget it all, anything it would take to just go back to the way they were. But that wasn't an option, because Harry knew now, knew that Draco didn't trust him, didn't respect him, didn't think he could look after himself. Whatever love they shared after this would be contaminated with that knowledge, that whatever decision Harry made, Draco was simply humouring him – was patronizing him. It wasn't a partnership, which was how Harry had always thought of their relationship. A partnership required trust, required that both of the pair knew the other's capabilities and their weaknesses and could depend on their strength when they needed it. But Draco's silence in the apartment meant that Draco didn't see strength at all when he saw Harry.

He sniffled and adjusted the straps of his bag, tilting his head back and closing his eyes a moment, before he continued on his way.

……………………..

Draco was suddenly and surprisingly set free of the spell he'd been under with the jarring realization that Harry had left. He'd walked out – and he'd gone thinking that Draco saw him as a weak thing to be cosseted and cared for. Breath returned and Draco gasped it in as he sprinted from the apartment, forgetting to close the door and pelted down the stairs – forgetting all about the lift.

He raced passed Dobby, though he thought he saw in his peripheral vision, the older man opening his mouth to speak. He burst out into the street and into the rain, and desperately searched the sidewalks for any sign of Harry. It was a relief to Draco, at that moment, that their building was located on such a small side-street. People rarely cluttered the sidewalks, so spotting Harry was made simple. He took off again, following the bowed figure of his lover, already thoroughly soaked through and heading in the direction of the main street where he no doubt intended to take the underground to Ron's.

Draco weaved through the few pedestrians on the street and finally caught up to the hunched figure, and shouted Harry's name, watching with desperation as Harry stopped and slowly turned but didn't quite meet his eyes directly. "I don't need you," Draco spoke and watched as Harry flinched at the words. For a moment, Draco didn't understand why, but then realized the natural interpretation of what he'd said. "Wait, that's not – I mean. You don't _need _me. And I don't _need_ you, and I always thought – that was part of our strength. We weren't dependent on each other. We're not – we have our own lives and their wonderful – but then." And Draco stopped to lick his lips, to take in oxygen and search for words. "But then when we're together – we're something more. You know? We become something – I don't know – something _more_."

He risked a glance up at Harry, and was relieved to see green eyes looking back at him. Draco felt encouraged and licked his lips again. "So it makes what you asked me completely stupid. Because of course I understand all that! How could you even think that I don't!" He didn't give Harry the opportunity to respond, though the dark-haired man was opening his mouth to do exactly that. "If I thought of you as anything less than I wouldn't have been carrying this around waiting for an opportunity to give it to you!" And Draco thrust the ring-box at Harry who accepted it only out of instinct.

He watched, his heart in his throat, as Harry opened the box and stared down at the ring it contained. They were soaking wet, and Harry's hair was dripping rain onto the shining surface, making the ring glow in the light from the streetlight. He waited still more, as Harry seemed to grapple with a range of emotions, until he finally settled on one. "Are you asking to marry me?" Harry asked, his voice sounding oddly choked and Draco nearly missed it over the sound of the rain.

"Yes," he affirmed.

They were silent a moment more, Harry staring at the ring, Draco staring and Harry staring at the ring. Until, after what seemed an age, the box closed with a loud sound that was followed, not a moment later, by Harry's whispered words, "You bastard."

It was not the reaction Draco had been expecting to hear upon presenting the ring to his lover, and he was stunned for a moment before he managed to find his voice. "What?"

"You _bastard_!" And the ring-box pelted Draco, who scrambled to catch it before it hit the ground. "You can't bribe me! That's pathetic! You had me thinking for a moment … thinking that … fuck, you're a bastard!"

"I've had it for almost a fucking year!" Draco defended.

"And you choose _now_ to give it to me!" Harry snapped. He paced for a moment, and Draco watched him, trying to figure-out when their lives had taken such a drastic turn. "I told you," Harry said, running his hands through his hair. "I told you not to bribe me into forgiving you when you fuck up!" And didn't Draco remember that, all those years ago, when he had ruined Valentine's Day.

"I'm not bribing you," Draco said honestly. "I was trying to show you that I take you seriously. That I know what you are and love you because of it and despite it, and that I want you because without even consciously trying to do anything, you make me a better person! And I love you! And I'm fucking sorry if I'm not making much sense right now because I'm terrified you're going to leave and I'd understand it if you did, but _god_ I want you to stay –" he didn't get any further because his rambling was cut abruptly short when Harry's hand gripped the front of his shirt in a tight first, yank him forward and unceremoniously locked their lips together.

Draco was swallowed in an angry, desperate, helpless, pleading kiss and just when he was relaxing against his lover, Harry pushed him back roughly. "You can't say shit like that when I'm angry!" Harry insisted, his cheeks rose-hued and his eyes blazing. "You can't make me love you when I'm trying to hate you!"

"Then don't try to hate me," Draco said before he could sensor the words. He had a brief moment to wonder if that were the right thing to say, but then Harry let out a bark of laughter and shook his head and seemed to accept it. Feeling braver now that Harry seemed to have calmed, Draco took another risk. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you, I was freaking out, and yes, I understand that we should have talked about it. I'm sorry. But god, Harry, come inside before you catch a cold. Don't leave." He was relieved when Harry accepted the hand he held out, and after a tentative tug, they walked back towards their flat, hands held, both soaked through and lost in thought.

Just outside of their building, Draco realized Harry had stopped walking when his hand tugged backward. He turned to face his lover with a look of concern, thoughts racing through his head of Harry having changed his mind. Instead, Harry chewed on his lip and glanced away, before lifting his downcast eyes tentatively up to meet Draco's. "May I have it back, please?" he said, sounding hesitant and unsure. It took a moment for Draco to realize to what he was referring, but when he did he took the box from where he had hastily stuffed it in his pocket.

Harry dropped Draco's hand to accept the box and raised the lid to peer at the ring that it contained. "Do you," Draco tried, and then had to stop in order to clear his voice. "Do you want me to put it on you?" It seemed too much to hope for, but once again green eyes lifted to meet grey, and Harry uttered the one word that would change Draco's world forever.

"Yes."

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End Chapter Six:

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i Warning: minor drug use occurs in this chapter. Also, I would like to make it clear that, as someone who has never done drugs, I have no idea what the effects of being high or whatever are like, nor whether it is plausible for certain drugs to be mixed into certain drinks. Yeah, I'm an idiot, so sue me, but don't flame me because I'm trying, I really am, but I'm not going to go out and get high or whatever just so I can write a plausible scene – sorry to disappoint. - 


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